


Home

by heartspocky



Series: Home-verse [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Coming of Age, Dysfunctional Relationships, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mental Illness, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Substance Abuse, Trauma, Unconventional Families, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 217,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartspocky/pseuds/heartspocky
Summary: Safe in their new shelter, Riku and Sora find that they aren't entirely out of the woods yet: a new city filled with new people means that they need each other more than ever before--but the ghosts of their pasts just might tear them apart. Sequel to "Runaway."





	1. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora finally gets to enjoy his new normal, although not without a few complications.

I haven’t heard a peep from Riku in hours, which is a little weird to get used to after so many days of waking up together and sticking so close all day. I find myself constantly turning to talk to him, just to tell him stupid little things that pop into my head, only to find him absent. I can't complain, though--knowing that he's just right upstairs, safe, means everything to me.  
   
I can't complain about spending the morning with Dad, either. Two minutes to eight, and we've got a pretty generous stack of pancakes frying up. I still can't believe I'm here, making breakfast with my father, after all this time. Maybe that’s why every bite I sneak from the "done" pile is like a piece of heaven. I will never, ever take food for granted ever again… but knowing that pancakes are Dad's favorite too makes it even better. Hearing him say it makes me actually feel like his son… Even after six years with no contact, we're still connected in all the little ways that matter.  
   
"Sora," Dad says, drizzling the last of the batter into two little baby pancakes on the hot skillet. "Want to quit snacking and grab a couple plates? We're almost done." I stare out at all of the different cabinets and pantries, a little daunted, until Dad speaks up again. "To my left--" I'm on the move, hand hovering. "Third door over. Not that one... no... stop! There you go." My hand freezes over the third of four small cupboards and I yank it open, nabbing three plates and setting them on the counter next to the stove. The third might just be wishful thinking since I don't know if Riku will be down anytime soon, but here's hoping.  
   
In the meantime, Dad and I settle on opposite sides of the dinner table, eating in comfortable silence. He smiles at me every time I look up, which is often. It's hard not to take him in-- to take this all in, every detail. I shovel pancakes in my mouth, eyes darting around, wanting to memorize it all. Dad's house is a sensory overload; I just can't get over the spotless light carpet and clean beige walls, art hung all over the place, the glass tables... the sheer amount of space, the number of rooms. I'm still used to eating at a plastic table, elbow-to-elbow with my Mom and her boyfriend. Or on the ground, feet hurting and either overheated or frozen to the bone. I never want tuna, canned chicken, or pears again. Ever.  
   
We're on our second or third serving when I catch Dad looking over my shoulder and up to the stairs behind me.  
   
“’Morning,” he says suddenly, voice bright but not too loud, like he's trying to soothe a wild animal. That can only mean one thing.  
   
Riku’s up--finally!  
   
I turn around in my seat and crane my neck, trying to get a good look.  
   
“’Morning, Riku!” I say, my mouth still packed full, cheeks bulging to the point that I probably look like a particularly ambitious hamster. Riku doesn’t really respond, though--not even to laugh at me. Instead, he gives us something like a vague nod as he continues down the stairs. When Riku approaches the table, Dad pulls up a chair to his left, which makes something inside me swell up like a balloon. Dad's a lefty, just like me!  
   
Riku bypasses him, hovering near a seat beside me instead and watching Dad like a hawk.  
   
“Hey, glad you're up! Sit down, we just started!” Dad insists. “You want some pancakes?”  
   
“No thank you,” Riku replies coldly, pulling out his chair and taking a seat with the most painful amount of hesitancy I've ever seen. You'd think he's trying to lower himself onto a bed of nails or something.  
   
“Anything else I can get you, then?” Dad's already getting up when he asks, balancing his plate on one hand and the now-empty bottle of syrup in the other as he heads back into the kitchen.  
   
“No thank you,” Riku says again.  
   
“You sure? Not even toast?” I watch Dad from the corner of my eye as he grabs a loaf of bread out of a drawer near the sink, but my focus is on Riku.  
   
“Alright. Sure,” Riku replies finally. “Thanks.”  
   
While Dad’s still busy in the kitchen, I take that chance to put my hand over Riku's and squeeze. Just to see what happens. And I do get a small reaction: Riku glances over at me to give me a weird look, then goes back to kind of spacing out or whatever. At any rate, he doesn't shake me off and I’m thankful for it. I gotta say, I kinda missed him for the three hours that he was asleep and I was down here. I guess it never really occurred to me before now, but we haven't been apart for more than a few hours since we met. And I wouldn’t entirely mind keeping it that way.  
   
“You want butter or anything?" Dad calls from the other room. Riku tenses up a little and even I start a bit, letting go of Riku's hand as quickly as I can. "Jam? Cream cheese?”  
   
“No sir.” Riku's response is uber-polite but somehow natural, like it's reflex. It's not something I'd have expected from him.  
   
Dad shrugs as he walks in, seeming to take it in stride.  
   
“Suit yourself,” he says, handing Riku a small plate with a few slices of sourdough toast stacked one on top of the other.  
   
“Thank you sir,” Riku says. The silence as Riku eats is a little less natural, like the three of us don't really know how to interact together. But that's okay. We'll learn.  
   
“Well,” Dad announces, shifting after Riku finishes the last bite. “...I wish I didn't have to go so soon, but I’m gonna have to head out in a few.”  
   
“What?” I ask, a little alarmed. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that it's the middle of week so, yeah, it's not like he can just take a day off with no notice. I just showed up out of the blue... I can't expect him to stop his life for me. As much as I wish he could... That’s a lot to ask.  
   
“Sorry, kiddo,” he replies gently. “There's a lot going on at work right now, and I need to be around to see it through. But as soon as everything dies down, I'm going to take some time off so we can spend time more together and get this all figured out. Okay?” I nod, watching as he rises and walks over to the coat rack near the front door. He pulls on a nice gray coat, then doubles back to ruffle my hair before he finally walks out the door. "I'll see you in a few hours for lunch, alright?"  
   
“Yeah!” Watching him go is harder than I’d have thought, but it’s okay. It’s only a few hours. Not for good.

I just need to remember that.

Next to me, Riku lets out a visible breath, finally relaxing. Time to grill him, I think.

“So... What do you think about my dad?” All he offers is a noncommittal shrug as he heads into the kitchen. With nothing else to do, I follow. He's still quiet as he opens a seemingly random cupboard and finds what he's looking for on the first try, pulling out a large glass and filling it with tap water. "...Do you think you'll be okay here?"  
   
His response is even more vague this time: all he does is make some sound I can't decipher into the cup as he drinks. Okay, time to spring a question on him that can't be answered by a simple yes or no. “The day’s free...what do you want to do?”  
   
“I don’t care,” he replies coolly, setting the cup in the sink. Well, that helps. I suggest crashing on the couch and watching some TV, to which he responds with a hearty: “Sure, whatever.”  
   
Jeez... if I knew he was going to be this agreeable, I would have asked if he wanted to make out.  
   
…I wonder if I could've.  
   
We settle in on the couch, my legs resting against his so we're not totally keeping away from one another. I'm so glad he's not shying away from touching… Right now, more than anything, I just need to be close to him.  
   
We go to the trouble of cycling through the channels like three times just to find something on this early that isn’t a talk show, soap opera, or for the under-five crowd, but it's all pretty much for naught. My mind can't stop wandering, I can't stop taking everything in, and it doesn't help that I'm already missing Dad like he's gone for good again.  
   
Man, barely 9 AM and I'm already stir crazy. How am I going to get through the rest of the day? How was I ever able to survive summer vacation? It was never anything but this, was it? Just sitting around, watching TV, napping? But now I've got this runaway spirit in me and I don't know if I'll ever be able to just sit still.  
   
“...Hey, Riku.” My call to him is a little soft, just enough to get his attention as he stares off just to the side of the TV, lost in thought. “Okay if I lay down?”

“Huh? Oh--yeah, go ahead.”

I slide down, bringing my feet up, legs across Riku’s, not super surprised when he scoots out from under me... Only to settle in himself, head on my chest, feet dangling off the foot rest. I go stock still, like if I move he’ll realize I’m here and bolt.

But this is real, and happening... and totally perfect. 

For something like two hours we lay together, and I stroke his hair while he dozes off. This whole thing we've got going on right now is better than I could have ever dreamed. Honestly, if we could've gotten to this point months sooner, running away would've been a breeze. We really can accomplish anything together, after all.  
   
But as much as I love this... I'm starving, and I don't think my stomach is going to be patient much longer. Riku should really eat, too.  
   
“Riku--hey, Riku, wake up,” I whisper, shaking him a little so I can get up and fix myself a sandwich--or eight.  
   
“I’m awake,” he says, shuffling back to a corner of the couch to curl up and go back to sleep. Laughing, I wrap my arms around him, nuzzling my head into his shoulder.  
   
"You don't look very awake. You do look hungry, though. Come on, I'll make us some lunch." Even through his haze of grogginess, Riku cracks a smile.  
   
"You don't know what hungry looks like on me," he says. "You should focus on yourself... I thought I was dreaming about bears, but it was just your stomach."  
   
"You're so considerate," I snark, wasting no time in bumping our foreheads gently when Riku turns to look at me. He lets out a _heh_ in a stream of minty-smelling air. I feel like maybe this would be a good time for a kiss, but I still don't totally know where we stand.  
   
Should I do it anyway? ...Yeah, I think so.  
   
“Hey, boys,” Dad calls from the entryway. We shoot each other panicked looks as I rapidly scramble to the other side of the couch, but it's too late. Dad walks in just soon enough to make it obvious that I was all over Riku like twenty seconds ago, and it makes him literally stop in his tracks. "Oh--um--you know what, I'll just go make my lunch. Feel --err-- feel free to join me when you're done."  
   
“Dad, wait!” I shout, following him. “Sorry, I was…er… reaching over him and you kind of caught us in a weird place.” Dad just looks at me for a moment, then smiles.  
   
“Don't worry about it,” he says. “That's just... not something you expect to see when you walk through the door." Suddenly, he switches answers; I guess he's not happy with his response once it’s out. "I'm not used to coming home to people in the house, I mean. Have you boys eaten yet? I can keep the lunch meat out for you."  
   
As annoyed as I am that I've already managed to make things awkward, I'm thankful for the subject change. Especially when that change involves food.  
   
I push myself off the couch, padding into the kitchen to join Dad, and try not to be too worried when Riku no-thank-yous his way out of joining us at the table. It's not like I was joking when I said he looked hungry... it really bothers me that he does this, that he totally starves himself all the time. When Dad's gone, I'm gonna badger Riku to eat if he doesn't do it on his own first.  
   
In the meantime, Dad and I make roast beef sandwiches with chips and fruit--I take an orange, he goes for an apple--and I ask him about his day so far. I feel like he doesn't exactly know how to talk to me or what to say as he talks about meetings and conference calls and his ever-growing pile of unanswered e-mails. He's heading some sort of marketing campaign for the company he's working for, and it sounds like it's kind of a big deal. I try to ask the right questions but it's clear I'm out of my league, which just drives the point home that I don’t really know him anymore. But I will, and soon, so I guess that’s pretty exciting.  
   
"….When are you going to be home for the day?" I ask when I deem it safe. I don't want to seem too needy, after all, even if I am.  
   
"Five, five-thirty, depending on traffic. I'm not that far away. And on that note, I should probably head out. You gonna be okay for the next few hours?"

I shoot Dad a thumbs up, trying not to feel like I'll never see him again every time he leaves the room.  
   
*  
In our first post-lunch hour alone, Riku and I head back to the couch, lazing in the sunlight that streams in through the long side windows, napping off and on through more endless slews of sitcoms, talk shows. Or, I am at least. Riku keeps glancing over, giving me a look that’s kind of funny. I'm not totally sure what's up with him, if he's just nervous, or if he has something to say, or... what.  
   
“Do I have something on my face or something?” I ask, smiling so he doesn't think I'm trying to tell him to back off or anything.  
   
“...No,” he says, but there's definitely something going on that I'm not being looped into. But then, what else is new? One thing is for sure, though: things are getting awkward, and they’re getting awkward fast. It makes something twist painfully in the pit of my stomach. Without having to plan for the day, when to eat, how long to travel... do we have anything to talk about? Maybe we are strangers now. Maybe we always have been. Maybe we always will be.  
   
I have to break this silence. I'm going crazy.  
   
“What's up?” I ask him stupidly. We're pretty much on the same page there at least: Riku raises an eyebrow as he looks at me, pushing his hair back behind his shoulder without bothering to respond. He follows by shaking his head as if to move his bangs from his eyes, which are now just the right length to be in the way of his vision. "...are you growing your hair out?"  
   
He shoots me another look followed by a drawn-out, "...No?" as if he can't possibly understand what would've made me ask that.  
   
"...Oh. I was just wondering why you didn't get it cut yesterday." He blushes a little at that, sitting a little taller.

“I don’t need anyone fussing over my hair," he says. "You saw how they were all treating me. Like I was...” He trails off and I can supply about a thousand words—they thought he was beautiful and unique and eye-catching and special, and he's all of those things—but somehow I don't think that's where he was going with this. After three years of running away, maybe he's not used to really being seen.  
   
"And you don't like being touched," I add thoughtfully. "...Maybe I could help? I'm sure we could find some scissors somewhere."  
   
"I'll figure it out."  
   
I nod, trying to focus on the show we ended up landing on, but I just need to get up and move around. I stand, stretching, about to ask if he wants to poke around a bit, but his eyes are just blinking closed and it looks like he's settling down for the afternoon again.  
   
Well, now I have a built-in excuse to go snooping... Riku needs blankets if he's going to sleep, right?  
   
I peek into the downstairs guest room, the one I was convinced Riku was going to take before he ended up shacking up with me. Aside from the bed and a dresser, it's otherwise pretty empty.  
   
I check under the bed for some spare linens, then in the closet along the wall opposite the desk, but it's all empty. The pattern continues as I head upstairs, with two furnished but untouched guest rooms with all the amenities, separated by a bathroom. All empty. With the beds fully made and covered in pillows it's almost eerie, like I'm living in a magazine spread and not an actual house. Or maybe it’s just sad. All of these empty beds, empty rooms... I wonder if Dad was as lonely as I was for all these years.

At any rate, the hall closet ends up being my lucky find, all tucked into a corner next to my bedroom. It's packed full of spare towels, blankets, sheets... perfect. I grab as many as I can hold in my arms, because they're a little thin and I don't want Riku to be cold.  
   
My trek back down the stairs nearly kills me—or, risks waking Riku at the very least. It all starts when I step on a corner of the blanket trailing by my feet, tripping me up and tangling my ankles together. I rush down the next six steps in a frantic attempt to stay upright, shaking out my legs until I can finally free myself. I nearly lose half the bundle when I reach out to grab the stair railing, which I struggle to get a real good grip on since my palms are super sweaty. I’m panting like I've run a marathon, heart still pounding in my chest as I reorient myself. Consider my adrenaline spiked. Jeez... Falling face-first down a flight of stairs like an idiot would've been hard to explain to Riku...  
   
I sneak up to the couch, blankets pooled in my arms—and nowhere near my feet, thanks—dropping them over him maybe more than a little clumsily.  
   
“Hey, Sora,” Riku murmurs, lazily shifting his glance toward me as I approach. He takes a deep breath, twisting onto his side as he rubs his eyes.  
   
“How long have you been awake?” I ask, face falling. And it didn't have a long way to go to begin with.  
   
“Just woke up. What's going on?”  
   
“Oh! Um, I wasn't creeping up on you or anything. I got you blankets. But you’re not sleeping anymore, so...” He smiles groggily, pulling the warm fleece up to his neck.  
   
"You didn't have to."  
   
"I wanted to."  
   
I climb over the back of the couch, just barely managing to avoid landing right on top of Riku in the process. That would have been awkward... I don't let it deter me, though, just playing it cool, like it never happened.

He's smiling, but there's no edge or sarcasm to it, just this content sweetness I've been trying to get from him since the day we met.  
   
“What time is it?" Riku asks, flopping down on the couch again.  
   
"Two. You can go back to sleep if you want." Like he needed my permission. Still, seeing him drift off again is both a relief and... not. He really needs the rest, but I'm not totally ready to be so lonely again. 

The thing is, if I asked Riku to stay up with me, I know he would in a heartbeat and I can't do that to him. I need to let him take care of himself, the same way I need to take care of myself.

*  
Dad's home at around six, noticeably quieting once he sees Riku still zonked out on the couch.  
   
“Sorry I’m late,” he stage whispers as he walks in, just loud enough for me to hear as I follow him into the dining room. “Traffic was really horrible... A car crashed into the railing, so everyone had to slow down and see. I think everyone was okay, though.” At that, he smiles. “Next time I’ll try to give you a call.” I just shrug, smiling. “I’ll get dinner started soon. It won’t take long, so you should probably wash up in a few minutes.”  
   
“Yeah!”

I hear Riku stir behind me and cover my mouth a little, but it’s too late--I totally forgot he was sleeping barely a foot away from me. Oops... Well, I guess it saves me from having to wake him. 

Dad heads into the kitchen to get started, so I grab my groggy, confused Riku and together we make the trek to my--our---bathroom upstairs.  
   
I let Riku use the sink first, hanging around in the doorway until he finishes up and I can squeeze in. After I wash my own hands I walk over to the bed and sit down, motioning for Riku to come join me. I know dinner’s soon, but we need to talk, just the two of us. I just need to know that he really is okay. I mean, we’ve barely said two words to each other all day.  
   
"How are you doing?" I ask.  
   
“Fine,” he replies easily. I watch his face for a moment, as if he ever betrays anything when I do.  
   
"...Okay. Just wanted to hear it."  
   
I shoot him a grin as I rise, ready to head downstairs and help out with dinner, but he doesn’t follow. I’m halfway out the door before I hear him call out to me (“Sora--wait!”), sending me right back into the bedroom. He doesn’t look me in the eye, staring instead at his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"What’s up?" I ask.  
   
“I was... I'm—I—I need to ask you something." That should have been obvious, but I still find myself a little surprised for some reason. I lean against the door frame, nodding my interest.  
   
"Oh! Yeah, sure."

He seems to debate with himself for a moment longer, eyes scrunched tight like he’s in deepest thought. He’s composed within seconds, and I’ve never been more intrigued. Another beat of silence passes though, and I’m starting to border on nervous.  
   
"Do you remember when you told me you liked me?” he asks finally.

....whoa! Wasn't expecting that one. I swallow heavily, rubbing the back of my neck.  
   
“Uh, yeah...”  
   
“Do you still? Like me... that way?"

For a second all I can do is wonder what Riku’s getting at, if he’s going to use this as an excuse to move into the room downstairs or leave altogether... But he wouldn’t hurt me like that. I know he wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” I tell him, somehow summoning the courage to look him in the eye. “I still like you.” His nod says he’s anything but taken aback.  
   
“...okay.”  
   
I swallow hard again, starting to fiddle with the crown pendant on my necklace. It suddenly weighs tons, almost suffocating me. I lick my lips, waiting. What I’m waiting for... Anyone’s guess.  
   
“... Was that all?” I finally ask.  
   
“Yeah,” he replies.  
   
I frown. Is he psyching me out? That can’t be it. Riku’s too methodical to bring up something huge like that for no reason. Still, with him not looking at me or saying anything... Maybe it’s best that I just head downstairs. I think my basic instincts are freaking out that food’s so close and I’m not going to it.

Whatever this is... We can sort it out later. 

I barely turn on my heel when Riku calls out again.  
   
“Sora, stop.”  
   
“Hm?”  
   
Finally he looks at me, aquamarine eyes bright.

“...I think like you, too? Um. I, uh. I like you, too.”  
   
I have to replay it in my head almost ten times before it computes.

I think I like you too. That’s what he said. He likes me too, as in “also”, he’s returning my feelings, he likes me, and he wanted to tell me...

Still, for as many times as I’ve played this out in my head, my dreams, actually hearing him say it strikes me stupid. I don’t know how long I stand here, just opening and closing my mouth like a dumbstruck fish as my heart pounds a mile a minute.  
   
“What?” I say finally. He takes a sudden interest in the carpeting as I move back to the bed. I feel like my legs can’t support me; I really, really need to sit down.  
   
“I like you, Sora,” he responds, much quieter this time.  
   
“...Oh! Um.” I rub the back of my head with one hand, clutching my knee with the other when I can't find a comfortable place to put it. "Wow." I wish I could think of something better, but… that's all that comes out of me, and I don't know where to go next. This is so new… I've never been in this position before. What happens now? What do I do?  
   
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Riku says. "Forget it." 

Augh--no! I can’t let him think he’s made a mistake, but seeing as I’m still sort of having trouble with getting words out of my mouth at the moment, I do the only thing that makes sense: I kiss him. 

He goes tense when our lips touch; there's no sign of the Riku who kissed me at Tiana's shelter… or the one who pushed me away one night so long ago. He returns the kiss, albeit slowly and unsurely, sending relief coursing through my entire body. I fight the urge to touch him; I just feel like that'll be too much for him right now.  
I don’t want to go too fast, so I wait to deepen the kiss, savoring the feel of him so close, so warm.  
   
“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” I murmur as when break apart for air. “You have no idea.“ 

“I think I do,” Riku returns, leaning in. I close my eyes, waiting to feel him again, wanting him so badly I almost can’t--  
   
“Dinner!” Dad shouts from downstairs.  
   
“Ugh.” I don’t know who that comes from, but it’s probably me. I shoot Riku a vaguely disappointed look when he leans back, preparing to go.  
   
“Well, I guess we should head downstairs,” I say awkwardly and unnecessarily, laughing like an idiot as I get up on my feet.  
   
"Guess so," Riku mumbles absently, following me downstairs.  
   
*  
   
Worry gnaws at me as we all take our usual seats at the table, plates full of food in our hands. I don't know what's going on with Riku and me... we still need to sit and talk and figure this out, if we're an item… I'm excited and scared and not knowing what we are and where we’re going just might drive me out of my mind.  
   
And then there's Dad. I saw the way he reacted when Riku and I were being so… physical, earlier today. He was uncomfortable. He didn't want to see it. If Riku and I start seeing each other…. Will he be angry? Disgusted? Disappointed? Will he want me out? Will he blame Riku, assume the worst of him like Mom did and want nothing more to do with him?  
   
But I can't just act straight and hope Dad never catches on. I didn't come here to pretend to be someone else--I'm so, so sick of that. I'm just now discovering who I am and I want it to be a happy thing, I want it to be something I can share.  
   
“You’re both really quiet,” Dad says, looking back and forth between me and Riku. “You have something on your minds?” At once, we shake our heads no.

I mindlessly shovel food into my mouth, watching Dad, watching Riku. Maybe I should just come out with it and… well, come out. But maybe I should talk to Riku first… if he isn't out, maybe he isn't ready for that… but I could just make it about me and leave Riku out of the equation for now. Then I could tell Dad about us later, depending on how he reacts.  
   
Or I could just let it be for a few days.  
   
Or a few weeks.  
   
Yeah. This doesn't need to happen right now; right now, all I want is to enjoy my dinner and the promise that, when Riku and I go to bed tonight, it will be as more-than-friends. Right now, I’m going to ask for Dad to pass the salt, eat, and strike up conversation like I normally would.  
   
“Dad, I’m gay.”  
   
No!  
   
That’s not what I meant to say! I just meant to ask about the salt!  
   
Dad stares up at me, frozen with a forkful of peas inches from his mouth; Riku drops his fork entirely. Even I jolt back, as if the words came out of some invisible fourth person. Ugh, I want to disappear. Or at least, I want to stop blushing and I want to not cry. At all costs, I need to _not cry._  
   
"…I know, Sora," Dad says gently, setting his fork on the table and reaching to give my hand a quick squeeze. "When you were little, your mom and I had a feeling."  
   
"Wait, _what_?" I ask. They knew? Before I did? Is there anyone who _didn't_ catch on before me?  
   
"I notice that you and Riku have been sharing a room," Dad says gently. "Are you--" he seems to think better of his phrasing, whatever that was going to be, and instead directly asks: "Is Riku your boyfriend?"  
   
Riku stares at me, into me, and I return his somewhat helpless look. Well, this is going to save us a talk later tonight.  
   
"Yeeee-ees?" I ask. Riku gives a barely perceptible nod before returning to his plate. For me, it's a clear confirmation.  
   
My stomach bursts into butterflies.  
   
Riku is my boyfriend.  
   
"And the two of you," Dad continues. "You met…?"  
   
"The first night I ran away…" I swallow hard, trying not to relive death staring me in the face, my fear, my uncertainty, my loneliness… "Dad, I’m so glad to be here.”  
   
“I’m glad you’re here,” Dad responds without missing a beat. He doesn't even need to think about it.  
   
I swear if I weren't sitting, I'd fall right over.  
   
Riku is my boyfriend and Dad is okay with it. He's okay with me. He loves me. He accepts me. He wants me here. It's more than I would have ever thought to ask for. I will never, ever take this for granted.  
   
*  
   
Riku excuses himself after dinner the second we’re all done eating. As tempted as I am to follow him upstairs, the idea of sitting on the couch and hanging out with Dad is calling to me a little bit more right now. Riku and I have all night if we want.  
   
So we catch the end of some cheesy movie before calling it a night, though I laze on the couch for a few more minutes as Dad turns off the TV and straightens up, putting the last of our glasses by the sink in the kitchen and tossing fallen pillows back onto the appropriate couch or chair. We walk upstairs together, and I can't stop myself from hanging onto him until we reach his room. He wishes me a good night as I continue to my own, and a few more words:  
   
"I'll probably still be awake for a while, so don't hesitate to come get me if you need anything. Riku too. Okay?"  
   
"Yeah!" At that, he reaches out to ruffle my hair again.  
   
 ”Good night, buddy.”

“Night, Dad!” 

I stick around till his door shuts and a second longer, adjusting to the sound of the house when everyone’s settling in for the night.  
   
Riku's in bed already when I make my way into the bedroom, and his eyes are closed even though he’s on top of the covers. I hope he wasn't too bored or lonely up here while I was busy with Dad…  
   
"Hey, Riku--you asleep?" I ask quietly, gathering my own pajamas from the dresser drawer.  
   
"…No," he says after a beat, his eyes blinking open as he sits propped against his pillows. 

I watch him as I walk to the bathroom, for as long as I can before I have to turn my head to see where I'm going. He looks fine now, but all I can see is his face during dinner, when he got pulled into the conversation as I was accidentally coming out. I stop in the doorway, questions in my brain too urgent to wait until I've brushed my teeth.  
   
"Riku?” I ask. “I just want to make sure--are you comfortable with me calling you my boyfriend?"  
   
"…It's a little weird," Riku confesses, running a hand through his hair, a little nervously if I’m not mistaken. "But I'll get used to it. Yeah. You can call me your boyfriend. I guess."

Anxiousness turns into the simplest kind of happiness. I'm glowing so bright I could light up the room, I swear.  
   
"Cool. You can call me your boyfriend too. I'd really like that." A small smile appears on Riku's face.  
   
"I'll keep that in mind," he says.

*  
I emerge from the bathroom clean and comfy, in a big shirt and sleep shorts. When I switch off the light, a small buzzing noise I hadn't noticed suddenly cuts off, making the room seem impossibly quiet. Riku doesn't seem to notice, lost in thought as he mindlessly rearranges the clock and lamp on the table next to him. 

I wonder if he's unsure where to go next. Like me. Sleeping together when we were kind of-maybe heading toward something was one thing… but tonight, when I get under those covers, I'm going to sleep with my boyfriend. That changes things.  
   
“What is it?” Riku asks as I approach the bed, sitting slowly and with maybe too much care.  
   
"Things have changed since we met, haven't they?" Riku's lips quirk up. He looks around the room. Looks at me.

"Of course they've changed. In every conceivable way."  
   
I crack a grin.  
   
"Can I kiss you?"  
   
Riku looks concerned the second I ask, his brows furrowing a little bit and his mouth dropping into something a little more neutral. I hope he won't think I’m getting into this for the wrong reasons…that's way, way off. I want to kiss him because I like him, not the other way around.  
   
"…Yeah. You can kiss me if you want to."  
   
"I want to," I tell him, hurling myself forward. He jolts back, steeling himself for a second before relaxing into my grip. It takes him even longer to return the gesture, circling his arms around me loosely--our first hug. Ever. 

I don't want to let him go, but Riku's quick to get antsy. In order to avoid smothering him too much I roll off him, settling on my side but close so we can get back to kissing without craning our necks too much. I start to run my tongue against his bottom lip, almost choking when he opens his mouth in return. It's a clear invitation but… just to be sure…

I break our contact, shooting him a questioning look that he doesn't even see--he's too busy pressing our mouths again. Well, okay! I guess I just need to trust that he'll let me know if he wants to stop.  
   
Hoping this won't be his tipping point, I reach out to rest a hand on him, semi-awkward and loose on his shoulder as I try to figure out how this whole touching thing is supposed to go. I just want to run my hands all over him, but I _know_ that won't fly. Not yet, anyway.  
   
So instead I focus on deepening the kiss, opening my mouth, hoping he'll follow. He meets the unspoken challenge in kind and I up the ante, swiping my tongue, tasting him--I feel Riku falter, I feel his hand draw back from its place on my side, but he doesn't pull away.  
   
"Alright?" I ask as I move, but only to tilt my head a little and try at what I think might be a better angle. He hums his approval into my mouth, and the sudden vibration is… really, really weird. I like it.  
   
I gently slide closer, my grip on his shoulder becoming surer, though I’m pleasantly surprised when he rolls ever-so-slightly on top of me. I lay back and chill a little while he runs experimenting fingers down my chest, my stomach, my sides, and let him add more pressure to our kiss. 

I hold back until I just can't anymore, pulling him closer and finally reaching up to touch that unfairly amazing head of hair that I've been wanting to play with since forever. After, I run my hands down his arms, hitting scar tissue more often than not, and it's a weird feeling. But I don't mind or anything! It's a part of him, just more for me to cherish. If I tried to scrub away all the rough bits, Riku wouldn't be Riku anymore. We wouldn't be here, doing this… and I like this a lot.

“Sora,” Riku murmurs against my ear, running his lips across my jawline and coming to plant a kiss on my neck. I feel myself jerk away, maybe not super into that right now, but that's okay. I just slide back in like nothing happened. I wanna taste him again. “…Okay,” he says after letting me steal just a few more little kisses. Something's different when he pulls away from me. It's like he's over the whole thing--where there softness to him not even ten seconds ago there's just… some weird distance or something.  
   
"Hm?"  
   
He doesn't quite meet my eye, turning away as he pats his hair down and begins to straighten his clothes from where they got a little mussed. Okay, so… I guess we're done?  
   
"Well," he says, pulling the covers out from under us and curling up beneath the soft comforter. He never finishes the thought.  
   
“Good night,” I whisper, shutting off the light. Riku doesn’t respond verbally, but I know he heard me. The way he shifted around after I said it is a good enough response.  
   
I watch him for a few minutes, still not really believing that all of this is really happening. I'm so glad Riku finally likes me back, but… he’s a weird one.  
   
Time to see how this goes, I guess.  
   
I can't wait.


	2. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku hits a few bumps in the road on his way to feeling comfortable in Sora's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riku's pov. Emetophobes may want to steer clear of the first few paragraphs.

It takes a moment after I’ve opened my eyes for me to realize where I am, and even that doesn't stop a spike of panic from jolting me before it makes way for cold, heavy dread. The events of last night are slow to come back to me; for a moment, I just feel wrong and know that there's a reason but can't come up with one. Once I figure it out, the reason is stuck in my head. Hands and mouths and teeth. I like you. Can I call you my boyfriend? Can I kiss you?

It isn't any better, knowing. 

I'm shivering, but not because I’m cold. God, I feel sick. I'll never stop feeling sick.

Springing to my feet, I rush into the bathroom and gently close the door behind me, careful not to make a sound. I stride past the sink, avoiding the mirror because I can't even face myself right now. I fumble with the blue shag-covered toilet seat, trying to lift it up before I heave up what’s left of last night’s dinner. Next, push myself back to my feet, flush, wash my face and hands, rinse my mouth out with some sort of blue wash I find that burns, and crawl back into the bed. I hate the familiarity of it. 

But the warm body next to me, close enough to touch... that's new. 

I watch as Sora's fingers and occasionally the side of his mouth twitch, manifestations of some dream playing out deep in his head. And the more I watch him, the more I listen to the sound of his breathing, the occasional snorts and sighs escaping from his lips, the less I can believe what I let him do last night. And worst of all, I was totally complicit. I didn't even just sit back and let it all happen, I _participated._

It’s not all bad, though.

Sora's okay, after all, and on good days I almost believe everything he says about wanting me to be okay. I wasn’t lying when I said it last night: I like him... a lot. More than I really know what to do with or how to use. I still need to wrap my head around it all, but it's a quarter past five in the morning and I'm barely coherent as it is, so maybe it can wait for a little while. After a few more hours of sleep.

Listen to me… "a few more hours of sleep." I can actually afford the luxury for now, even though it's hard to believe that I can even sleep at all. I'm so wired every second I'm awake, my brain never shuts off, and I'm always listening. I don't know the last time I slept through the night; maybe I never have. All I do know is that since I've been taking Sora's bed, once the lights go out… it's quiet in my head. Quiet and dreamless and restful. I miss that when I wake up, the nothingness. The peace. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to wake at all, but more and more it gets easier to face the day, because opening my eyes to find Sora next to me feels like a treat. 

But maybe one I shouldn't overindulge in.

What we did last night can never, ever happen again. I can't let it. Things are getting too complicated as it is. I wasn't ever supposed to feel anything for him, I didn't even know I could feel this way… but I do, and there isn't any taking it back at this point. All my plans, the promises I made to myself… Sora's derailing me. After all, how do I leave this place if I'm in a relationship? If that's even what's happening here?

Next to me, Sora lets out a groan and flips onto his side. I don't jump, but my breath hitches and my heart rate picks up. Everything startles me suddenly. Everything. 

I just need to sleep and not think for once.

Just stop thinking.

*  
Sora doesn’t stir for another forty-five minutes and I’m not sure if I'm meant to be glad when he does. It knocks me out of this horrible half-awake state I’ve been in, but now I have to face this. Him. Us. 

His lips curve into a smile, into a grin, as he flips onto his back.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he says, practically glowing. It's another piece of code for me to decipher. “Hey, are you hungry? Dad’s probably up. I bet we can get some breakfast. You should have pancakes this time! I think we still have a ton of batter.” 

Ugh. I can't stand the chatter this early.

“I’m not hungry,” I manage. He frowns, looking at me closer than I wish he would.

“You’re never hungry.”

And my first instinct is to strike, to snarl at him something I don't need to say, like how that is none of his fucking business and he can keep all of his petty fucking concerns to himself. Once, I would have. 

Today, I don't. 

I just tell him I'll eat in a little while and ask him to go back to sleep, which he's happy to do, rolling over and already snoring in the few minutes it takes for me to settle in again. Or something like it. Sora… you'd sleep all day if you could, wouldn't you? 

Can't say I'm surprised, after so many mornings waking him two, three, four times before he could rouse himself fully and get up on his feet. 

But I can't stay in bed anymore. I'm not good at sitting around, and anyway, my ass is falling asleep.

I'm this close to reaching over to shake Sora awake purely out of habit, out of instinct, but I let him be. Besides, I know the second he's up for real he'll be glued to my side—or mine, to his—and right now I just need to be alone.

I slide out of bed, feet aching when they meet the floor. Not surprising after two, three years of almost nonstop walking, but now that I've gone a day or so just lazing around... it's more acute than ever. Everything hurts.

Still, I can't stop moving just because of a little pain. The only thing to do at this point is to grab some of the fresh clothes that feel rented to me and walk into the bathroom. Showering still feels novel. I still feel _filthy._

I pull a towel from the stack beneath the sink, switching on the water and stepping in. The water is freezing, but it wakes me fully, startling me into alertness. Gasping and blinded, I grope around until I've found the temperature knob, twisting until the water is just hot enough to tolerate without being entirely uncomfortable. The room is quickly filled with steam, hot and white and moist. Fog inside, fog outside. 

Fog in my head.

Because my mind never shuts up, I replay the morning. Over and over again.

You're never hungry, he says. It never means anything from him. Never a criticism or a veiled insult. I know, but it's still frustrating to hear. All day, every day. You aren't eating, you aren't sleeping. Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?

But that's Sora. That's who Sora is. And I just have to learn to deal with it.

...It's just that I'm taken back to an awful time whenever he asks about me and food, a time where I'm sitting in a classroom during lunch to get away from kids I don’t belong with and my only decent teacher asking where my lunch is, staring at me with worried eyes and telling me that I look tired and frail as if I don't already know, as if I haven't realized that my failing health has everything to do with nerves killing my appetite and destroying my ability to sleep at night.

"Alright," she'd said unconvincingly that first time she noticed me skulking around during lunch, when I'd told her some petty lie about forgetting my food at home, and I can hear her as clearly as if she were right next to me. "But just make me feel better and eat with me today."

I could've been relieved or thankful, but all it did was cast a wave of sickness through me, because she thought—she knew—that something was deeply wrong. 

That's the problem with people who care: they notice _everything._

Sighing, I turn off the water and snatch my towel from off the sink. I slowly dry off, dress, and begin to brush my teeth, wash my face. It's a small relief that the mirrors are all glazed over with hazy precipitation. It saves me from facing, again, how much I'm starting to look like my dad, or so endless parades of adults loved to tell me growing up, much to our mutual dismay. Not that Nathan's a bad person to take after, in that respect at least—I don't see it though, don't see how anyone could quite measure up to him as far as looks go... but it doesn't matter. I don't need the reminder. At least I have my mom's hair and skin and eyes. It's the only thing I do have of her anymore.

Speaking of, Sora was right yesterday: My hair really is getting long. I found some scissors in the drawer last night when I was looking for toothpaste, so I root around for them one more time. It takes one decisive snip to hack off everything below my shoulders, strands of white raining onto the floor. I thread my fingers into the ends of my hair. It feels even enough. 

I end up wandering downstairs for lack of anything better to do, even though each step is difficult for a multitude of reasons that don't all have to do with something as simple as pain.

I guess it's a bit much to hope that Sora's dad is at work. Not like he's the one who shouldn't be here, but I was hoping to fish around for some bread and a cup of water without anyone even knowing I was here.

“Good morning,” Sora's dad says brightly when he sees me emerge from the dining room, the easiest route to the kitchen from the stairs. "You're up early, Riku."

For some reason, hearing him say my name jars me. 

At least he pronounces it right. More than I can say about half of Darry.

“Good morning,” I respond. I could kick myself. I should have dragged Sora down with me so unwanted attention wouldn't be smothering me like this.

“Can I get you something to eat?” he asks. 

I try not to yell.

“No thanks, sir.”

I was expecting… something, I'm not even sure what, but he just smiles.

"Well, help yourself whenever you get hungry." I nod again, finding something on the wall to stare at. “So…" Maybe I'm not the only awkward one here. That's heartening. Almost. "How’d you sleep last night?”

“Fine, thanks, sir.” 

“Was it warm enough in your room? I know it's been cooling off at night lately."

“It was fine.” I don’t need to worry about the cold when I have Sora to sleep next to. I wonder if he knows I sleep with his son, or if he thinks that we just stay up late in the night and meet again in the early morning. I wonder if that would change things.

"I hope you were able to get some sleep... I know you were up late the other night." His mention of that night, my first night here, jolts me. Why would he choose to remember that? Why would he bother to ask?

“I did,” I tell him, and I can’t hide the surprise from my voice. 

What’s this guy’s deal?

\  
It only takes another agonizing hour for Sora to wander downstairs, still in his pajamas and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He walks directly into the kitchen, pulling a box of cereal from somewhere behind the counter and pouring it into a bowl, only to pop the dry pieces directly into his mouth. I want to tell him to get off his feet, assuming he hurts like I do, but these aren't the streets and I'm not in charge anymore. I haven't been for a while now. Not really.

At least Sora's presence sends his father running, so I'm off the hook for now.

I spend the day hanging back, letting them reacquaint themselves. I join them both for a quiet lunch, praying the entire time that I won't get pulled into a conversation I have no investment in. I'm almost free when Sora's dad drops the bombshell. 

"I don't think it would hurt to get you both in to see a doctor sooner rather than later."

I feel suddenly very sick.

Great, all I need is some adult to poke and prod at me for forty five minutes, clucking at me in thinly-veiled disappointment and asking me personal questions that aren't anyone's business but my own. 

This is so sudden. So final. Another item on what's becoming a long list of things I owe this complete stranger for and it's only been two days.

Meanwhile Sora shrugs like it's no big deal. Wish I could just take things in stride the way he can.

"Sounds good!" he says earnestly. "I haven't had a check up in a couple years, so… probably overdue."

"Definitely overdue," his dad agrees, smiling. Then he turns to me, and I'm not ready. "Would you say it's been about the same for you too?" Slowly, I nod.

"…A few years," I agree vaguely. The truth is I can't remember the last time I saw a doctor, save the day when I woke up in the hospital with no memory of how I'd gotten there, with a jittery, overly-concerned Sora to contend with. I just hope that all of this won't lead to Sora asking questions again. 

\  
I finally begin to relax for the first time as Sora sits silently watching TV and his dad is finally about to head upstairs. 

It's short lived. He pulls me aside before he goes, into the kitchen, out of Sora's earshot. This is probably not good, so I prepare for the worst. Fuck him.

"Riku," he says lowly, glancing back to make sure Sora hasn't turned around. "I won't ask you to tell me anything about your time as a runaway. But I've noticed that you and Sora are sharing a room, and since you're together… I have to know if it might be in your best interest… and Sora's… if we get you in for some extra screening. If you feel like you might need it, please tell me."

I go cold down to my toes. I haven't been this offended since… I don't know, I can't even think right now. I can barely look at him, his blue eyes boring into me from behind wire-frame glasses.

STD screening. I know what he means. What he's saying. I'm not an idiot. 

But I'm also not whatever it is that he thinks I am.

"I wasn't--" I sputter, feeling like a liar even while telling the honest-to-God truth. He thinks I'm lying. I just know he does. "I haven't. I didn't. I don't need one." Reflexively I go to thank him, but the words die on my lips. I can't choke them out. He nods, not taking his eyes off me. 

"I wouldn't judge you if you had, Riku. Please know that I'm not making any assumptions and I won't ask you about anything that you may have done or tried, but I do need you to be honest. I just want to keep my son safe. I'm sure you understand." I'm silent, staring to the side, unable to meet his eyes. "If you say you don't need it, I believe you. Alright?"

…This isn't what I was expecting. For the thousandth time in a day and a half, he's thrown me.

He's going to say something else, I can tell, but I pretend I don't. I pretend that there is nothing else I'd rather do than take my place on the couch next to Sora once again. I pretend that I'm okay, and comfortable, and not replaying every syllable of that conversation over and over. I pretend I belong here. But I don’t belong here. Or anywhere.

Sora begins to put his arms around me and I wonder how long it’ll be before I just get kicked out altogether.

Sora’s resting his head against mine and I'm planning my escape. Our fingers are laced, but my mind is food-water-packing-knife-notebook-photos. He might have kissed me. I don't know. 

Everything crashes down on me and suddenly that far-away sensation seems to reverse. Everything is too real, Sora is too close, his skin is too hot. The TV is too loud, the cars outside are too fast, it's all too, too much. I jerk away without entirely meaning to, and his voice is so, so loud when he says what I hope he didn't say.

He looks surprised, then nervous, brow furrowed, trying to piece together where he went wrong. 

“Riku?” he asks.

"…What did you say?" I ask him back.

"Just. If you were okay. Riku--"

“No. What did you say, exactly?” He stares at me like he's never seen me properly before.

“I said, 'Are you okay,'” he's searching my face for something. “...baby.’ Exact words.”

Too loud. Too close. Too hot. Too real. I don't feel real. None of this does, it's like I'm watching from somewhere far off. 

“Riku, what’s wrong?”

I close my eyes and move to the other side of the couch, shaking my head. I come to. Or something. And I'm left with shit to deal with.

“You called me ‘baby’.” I explain, as if it all makes sense.

I wish it did. I wish I did.


	3. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The firsts continue as Sora learns where boundaries begin with both Riku and his own father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora perspective chapter!

I don't get Riku at all. But then, I already knew that.  
   
From his place on the couch he's staring at me like I bit him, eyes round--but at least he doesn't jolt away from me or something. Was that too much, too soon?

"Um... I'm sorry if I upset you?" I try first, hoping that we aren't two days into our relationship and already about to experience our first fight.  
   
"…You didn't upset me," he says, turning to face the front of the room again, but there's a strange edge in his voice I don't recognize. "Just. Surprised." For his sake and mine… I hope that's it. I perk up a little, hoping he'll respond to my energy.  
   
"Well, I'm going to grab some food! You want anything?"

"... No, I'm fine." He smiles at me, and something in my stomach loosens a little bit. I think it's all blown over, but… I don't have a good feeling about this. Sure, I know it's gonna work out in the end, but… I've got a feeling that it's going to take some trial and error to get this--us--all figured out.   
   
Until then, I just head into the kitchen and fix myself some oatmeal, staring at the back of Riku's head from the counter and trying to will him to eat something.  
   
You know, it's funny. I thought that once I found my dad I'd have nothing to worry about, assuming that he'd be willing to take me in and all. But now that I don't need to worry about food or sore feet, I think I actually worry more--always about Riku. Hoping he's going to be okay. It's not like I don't see him, the way he toes around the house like a cat wading through a puddle, the far-off look in his eyes.  
   
What's hard about being home is that all the rules are different--I can't assume he'll pull it together eventually. I got to know who Riku was when he was a runaway, but now… What if he's like this forever? What if he never feels safe or at home here? What if he decides he likes me a lot less when he has the option to go and never look back?

What if he hates it here?  
   
I lick my bowl clean, realizing that I haven't taken my eyes off him once, not even when I slide my bowl next to the sink for cleaning. I’ll get to it… in a little while.

There's this dread that always sits in the pit of my stomach--I used to channel it into school, then to this idea that Dad would send me back to Mom the second I found him. I think it's probably gonna go away eventually, but for now... it just switches to focus on the idea that something's gonna happen to Riku. And I don't want anything to happen to him ever again. He--we--have gone through enough.  
   
I take a seat back on the couch, and that little ball of hurt loosens a little bit when Riku curls up next to me and dozes with his head resting against my thigh.

He sleeps for an hour. I sort of feel like I count the minutes till he wakes. It feels like since we got here, all he wants to do is shower or sleep. I wish he felt as energized, as invigorated, as I do, but I need to remember that I've reached my end goal. This was never even a part of Riku's plan.

Maybe he just needs time. Luckily, we have a lot. And I'm more than willing to give it to him.

*  
It takes me about another half-hour to finally break and gently scoot myself out from under Riku's arm, flung over me at some point when he must have been having a really crazy dream.

I'm not even hungry, but I swing back into the kitchen to grab myself some more food just because I can. I end up making another sandwich, turkey and lettuce on rye bread with a bag of chips and the last of the strawberries before returning to my place by Riku. Well, more or less. He stretched out when I got up, so I take a little corner so he can be comfortable. I guess I could've taken a chair, but… I still need to be with him.

The TV mindlessly drones on in the background as I stroke his hair between bites of my second lunch.

"Mmm…." He stirs just long enough to rub his eyes and assess his surroundings, then he's out again, moving in his sleep to rest his head on my lap. As he nears me, I pull my plate away a little so my food and my boyfriend don't accidentally start to become one.

Incredibly, his hand snakes over, reaching across my lap and snagging a strawberry. Riku turns onto his side, nibbling at the bottom on a smaller one, his eyes still half-lidded. I'm too busy stifling laughter to even be mad. The dork is _sleep-eating._

I sit back and watch the show as he comes to, visibly confused by the red juice on his fingers and the little green leaves in his hand.

"Help yourself," I tease, pushing my plate back toward him.

"…I didn't…" he says, slowly comprehending. "I-I've never-- sorry. I was asleep, I didn't realize--"

The smile drops right off my face. He actually feels _bad_ about this.

I just grin, rubbing his back up between the shoulder blades with my knuckles until he stops searching for explanations I don't need.

"…Sorry," he says one more time as I press my lips to his, meeting him in a swift, gentle kiss. He pushes himself up and away, stretching out his back and arms.

"I don't care," I assure him, grinning again. "I think it's cute. You're cute… hey, what's wrong?" The look still on his face can't be about the food.

As he deliberates, I swing my feet up and tuck them under me, turning to face him and leaning forward. Slowly, I push my hand closer until it's next to his, until I'm closing in on the gap between us. Then I move it on top of his, rubbing small circles on the flat of his hand. Clockwise. Counter. Back and forth. The skin is rough and dusty and cracked, but so is mine. For some reason, thinking about how that's gonna change someday fills me with a hope I didn't realize I was missing.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to this," he says finally, his eyes on my hand.

"Used to what?" When he doesn't respond, I press him a little further. "...Us?"

"…It's not that," he replies evasively. He tears away his eyes and moves his hand into his lap, sighing heavily. "It's just… after so long, waking up in a bed again is hard." I nod, giving his hand a little squeeze.

"I think of how long it took me to get used to being a runaway, and I don't think I ever really did… and that was your life since you were thirteen. You were out there for a long time… You just need time here. You'll see."

"Two years and two months," he says after a beat. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

"It's over now."

"It's over," he repeats. He shuts his eyes, and in silence we let it sink in. One room over, we hear the front door open and shut as Dad returns from work an hour early. I turn to look over my shoulder, but he's still taking off his jacket and sliding his shoes off, so I deem it safe to keep going.

"Is there anything else bothering you?"

For a second he looks absolutely tortured and it takes all my willpower not to just lurch forward and throw my arms around him. But then I remember that Dad's gonna be in any second and even though he's okay with us, I don't want to make things more awkward than they need to be.

"I can't shake the feeling that I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry, I just can't." His apology comes off as a way to interrupt me before I can point out that the feeling is totally unfounded. "Everything I touch feels borrowed. It feels temporary. I feel temporary."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Riku." Riku and I both hit the ceiling at the sound of Dad's voice. How long has he been standing in the living room doorway? How much did he hear? "I hope you realize that this is a safe place for you. We aren't going anywhere--right, Sora?"

"Right!" I pipe in. I shoot Riku a grin he doesn't return before turning my attention to Dad. "You're home early today!"

"Yeah," he replies. "I thought I'd sneak out a little early to kick-start the weekend. I'm sure you boys are getting bored cooped up in the house, so I was thinking we could go rent some movies tonight if you're in the mood. Over the weekend we'll shop for some stuff you keep you entertained until we start figuring this all out."

  
"Sounds good to me!" I look back to Riku, smile unwavering even as he looks uncomfortable at the suggestion.

I can't believe we're doing more shopping... now this is really starting to feel final, like I'm finally settling in.

"Anything in mind?" Dad asks as he starts fixing himself something to eat. It takes me a minute to figure out he's still talking about the movie.

"Um… no, I'm good with anything!" Flashing us a smile, Dad heads upstairs, saying something I don't quite catch about starting dinner in a few hours.

Well… that means that, at least for a while, it's just me and Riku again. I sit tight until I hear the door shut upstairs, just waiting until I can make my move. Because I can make moves now.

When Riku seems like himself again, I strike. Then... the kissing and laughing and light touching all kinda blurs together.  
   
*  
One close call later, Dad's downstairs and telling us to get ready to go. Riku and I sneak guilty glances at each other, both of us a little red-faced and grateful that Dad didn't have to accidentally witness our makeshift makeout session. We head upstairs to slide on shoes and pull on jackets, and for a second I see Riku go to reach for his orange duffel bag, untouched in the corner, before we leave.  
   
"Reflex," he says when he notices me looking. I just grin at him and make like I didn't see anything at all. He pulls his hair out from his blue hoodie, continuing. "Also—maybe it'd be better to keep the all of the couple stuff upstairs from now on."  
   
I ignore the fact that Riku says "couple stuff" with the note of disgust that most people save for the word "moist."  
   
"Yeah," I laugh instead as we trod down the stairs. "Maybe best to keep that upstairs."  
   
"Keep what upstairs?" Dad asks as he grabs his keys from the kitchen counter. The glance Riku shoots me says, _you're on your own._  
   
"Err... my necklace," I blurt out surprisingly fast. I pull it out from under my shirt, the dim silver crown shiny in the white light from the lamp nearest me. "I keep misplacing it." I swear Riku looks vaguely impressed. But then, he taught me what I know about covering for myself.  
   
Dad seems to think nothing of it, leading us outside and to the car with a small nod.  
   
"Upstairs," Riku mumbles, smiling for just a second as he passes me by to climb into the backseat.  
   
"Upstairs," I return, grinning, and hop up front.  
   
We wind up hitting this little shack in the middle of the street about ten minutes away, serving cheap fries slathered in dollops of chili, cheese, onions, sauce, beef or pork or chicken... anything you can think of. The building consists of the kitchen and a window, and the two benches set up out back are taken, so we stand off to the side in a huddle, a shiver tearing up my spine every time the breeze kicks up, brushing my face with cold, salty air.  
   
"It's not usually so cold this early," Dad says a little apologetically, snatching a fry from my basket. I bump him lightly with my shoulder, laughing.  
   
"Trust me, after the past few weeks this is nothing."  
The second it comes out, I know I just stuck my foot right into my mouth. Dad goes quiet and still. Riku, quieter. Stiller. He looks down at his basket of chili, pushing ground beef around with the back of his fork.  
   
The uncomfortable moment is broken when Dad slides an arm around my shoulders and squeezes, pulling me in tight before letting go.  
   
"Have you thought about what movie you want to see?" he asks. I'm too busy staring at Riku to respond, letting out a breath as he finally starts eating again. Dad doesn't press; he just lets the subject drop.  
   
We end up picking out some dumb buddy cop movie from the rental and pop it into the DVD player as soon as we get back home. It all seems a little magical to me; Mom's VHS broke down sometime when I was in fifth grade and it was one of those things we just tossed out and never thought about again. If I wanted to watch a movie, I'd just go over to Donald's. So seeing this neat welcome screen on a TV that's actually big enough to see from the couch... how is this my life? I still don't get it.  
   
I cuddle up on the couch next to Dad, Riku perched on the far end next to an armrest. If I stick my leg out a little, I can nudge him with my toes. I do a few times, pulling first a few smiles, then a grimace, then nothing at all. Fine. Well, if he doesn't feel like playing...  
   
Full and content, I shut my eyes for a sec as an explosion sounds in the background, piped in from small TV speakers.  
   
*  
"Sora, come on. Wake up."

What...?

"You slept right through the movie." Dad's form slowly starts to make some sense as it becomes more and more clear in my groggy vision.

When did I fall asleep? Looking back at the TV jars me. The credits are rolling, but just a moment ago the previews were starting...

"Why don't you both get some sleep?" Dad asks, ruffling my hair as he rises to pop the DVD out of the player and stick it back in the case. Even from back here I hear it shut with a decisive pop. "We'll get an early start tomorrow."  
   
A glance back at the clock tells me it's only ten—not even, it's 9:37—but I think that sounds like a pretty solid idea. To my surprise, Riku waits by the couch for me to get up and start dragging myself to the stairs. Changing into pajamas once we reach our room seems like an impossible feat, and it's one I barely manage. I don't know why I'm so tired. All I really have strength to do is pull Riku close to me and fall instantly back to sleep.

*  
My eyes spring open at six AM and I'm ready to go. I don't know where, or how or why, but I'm compelled to get up.  
   
I step out of my pajama pants, kicking them into our laundry basket that's actually just some bin I found lying around our first night here, and toss on yesterday's jeans and a fresh yellow shirt. As always, I complete the look—if you can call jeans and a T-shirt a look—with Riku's crown necklace.  
   
By the time I'm out of the bathroom Riku's up and dressed, too. I'm not too surprised to see him up this early... I guess we're both feeling a little restless this morning. The shoes are throwing me off a little, though.  
   
"Going somewhere?" I ask, looking down at his sneaker-clad feet. His reply is more candid than I'd normally expect from him.

"No," he says. "Honestly, I don't even know what I'm doing." He laughs with me, brushing his hair behind his ear. Whoa—it's shorter than I remember. Maybe I'm imagining it?  
   
"Do you want to go out?" I ask. "We haven't looked around the neighborhood at all. I kind of wanna see what's out there." Riku glances at the clock. 6:23.  
   
"We could be back before anyone knows," he says. "Let's go."  
   
*  
I steal a quick kiss as we head outside, walking down the block side-by-side. It's weird doing this without a heavy backpack weighing me down, and I catch Riku rub his shoulder more than once, feeling for a strap that's not there anymore. No one's out but us, so I decide to take a little risk and take his hand in mine.  
   
"Hey," he says sternly, pulling back. I get the hint and let go.

"We should be able to do this," I say, not sure what I mean. We should be able to hold hands in public without worrying who's around—or, we should be able to touch without Riku acting like I'm trying to get to third base.  
   
I sigh as I stare over out the houses. My new neighbors' houses. After a while, they all begin to look the same.

"Maybe we need to set some ground rules." Riku sounds so business-like I almost laugh. Still, maybe it's good we get this figured out now so we can avoid the babe incident from happening again. "I'm not into pet names. I'm not touchy-feely and I probably don't cuddle. I'm sorry if you think that things are going to change now that we're together, but I still don't like being touched and I don't want to tell you how I feel about everything all the time."  
   
"...Just try," I tell him. "I'm not going to make you change. But... I just want to know that you're going to try as hard as I've been trying to make this all work."  
   
"Deal," he says quietly.  
   
"I still want to kiss you." He sputters a little at that one.  
   
"Now?"  
   
I snort loudly, trying to hide my snickers.  
   
"No, not right now. Just... you know. In general. I don't want to push you but... I mean, I want to be your boyfriend."  
   
"...I don't want everything to suddenly be different."

Says the guy who went from yelling at me for touching him--even just accidentally—to making out with me on a cot in a group home, or kissing me outside a college campus, or behind a neighborhood... Still, I figure I'll let him set the boundaries and then just... conveniently choose not to point it out when he decides to rocket over all the lines he's saying he won't cross. We're gonna make this happen. We like each other too much to let it go any other way.

"Well, they have to be different," I say. "But some things won't change, either. We can just take it as it comes." He seems comfortable with that, walking ever-so-closer to me as we continue down the street.  
   
*  
We walk downhill until we reach the coast. Only a few neighborhoods away from Dad's lay a row of small, two story homes painted bright sherbety colors: blues and yellows and oranges, all along the sand. I want to get a running start and jump into the water, but everything's fenced in. It's clear that this strip of the beach is private, meant for the lucky few who get to live here.

I guess we can find something else to do, or maybe even another entryway. The sun's kind of getting high, though, so maybe we should actually start to head back and--  
   
And Riku's hopping the fence.

"Ri—Riku, what are you doing?" I ask, scanning the street for anyone who can get us into trouble, but it's still pretty sleepy out.

"Well, are you coming?" he asks, staring at me from the other side of the rusted chain link.  
   
"...I don't know about this, Riku."  
   
"What, are you scared to come after me? Funny, I didn't think you were chicken, Sora." Sending him a glare, I slide my fingers through two links just above my head and hoist myself up. My shoes are too new to have a good grip yet, but I manage to use what little upper body strength I have to all but launch myself over the top of the fence, just barely managing to land on my feet.  
   
"It's about time," Riku teases, turning on his heel and stepping onto the sand. I follow as best as a can, but this is where Riku's longer legs really come in handy--he can trudge his way down the beach in longer strides, while I'm stuck trying to rush while my feet sink with every step, getting the brunt of the sand that Riku kicks up every time he lifts his feet. It doesn't take us long to just ditch the shoes. Man, I didn't think sand was this sharp, but I still find myself crunching it between my toes, savoring the unfamiliar feeling.

Riku rushes out ahead suddenly, crossing the dark lines painted by the tides where the ground is wet and thick.

"Riku!" I call, not totally ready to cross over yet while he's going straight forward with no signs of stopping.

"Relax," he responds. "I want to stick my toes in. I'm not going to go for a swim or anything."

He doesn't need to stick anything in anywhere--the water comes to him, in a sudden, powerful rush, almost knocking him down; the ankles of his jeans are soaked black and he laughs, swearing. I jump back just in time to stay dry before the waves pull back into the ocean.

"Is it cold?" I ask, hovering around him as he hits dry land again.

"See for yourself." With that, Riku grabs my arm and pulls me forward, right into the path of the next coming wave. I cry out; yeah, cold is an understatement, and somewhere behind me he just laughs and laughs.

Oh no. This will not stand. I crouch, scooping a handful of water and launching it at him, even though most of it lands right back onto the sand. A few drops get him right in the face, and that's good enough for me. Grinning, he pulls one foot back and strikes, kicking freezing salt water up as high as the hem of my shirt.

It is so on.  
   
*  
We're both freezing, soaked, and covered in sand by the time we hightail it back home, bumping shoulders and laughing. The walk seems longer now that we're both anxious to shower and change, to the point where I'm relieved to see the houses become more and more familiar as we reach Dad's.  
   
I unlock the door, opening it slowly so we don't wake Dad by mistake. So far, so good. I shush Riku; he shushes me back. He nudges me, I nudge him, and we both find ourselves stifling giggles as we approach the living room.

"Where were you guys?" Dad asks loudly, rising from the couch and scowling. My stomach drops, even the smallest hint of laughter gone. Anxiety creeps up my spine, and I'm already bracing myself for… something. "Do you know what I thought when I woke up this morning and you weren't in your beds?"

"Sorry, Dad..." I mutter. It isn't until I brush against Riku that I realize that I'm backing up. I can't help it; my throat is tight, I can barely look up at him when he chastises me.  
   
"What were you thinking? It's dangerous in the city. You could have been hurt--and you didn't say anything about where you were going, or when you'd be back--"  
   
"It's my fault," Riku says, sounding suddenly very sure of himself. This is the Riku I recognize, the Riku he is when he's just with me. The Riku that pulls me out of my panic and makes me feel safe. "Sora wanted to leave a note, but I insisted we'd be back before you got home. I was feeling really restless and I shouldn't have let that get the better of me." Dad's expression softens as he lets out a breath.

"It's fine. Just... don't do that again." He ruffles my hair, maybe a little harder than usual, but otherwise I think we're okay.  
   
In a weird way, it's almost a relief. I got in trouble with my dad and survived. He didn't yell at me or hit me... he probably won't even drag this up again later just to torment me.

I think we're okay.


	4. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku takes a solo trip down to the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riku's perspective.

A slit of sunshine falls into my eyes, waking me instantly. Probably for the best... I can't let myself get used to sleeping in and lazing around. If my sleep schedule is fucked, I'm fucked. Still, I can't help but wonder which genius decided to place a small, skinny window so high on the wall over the bed… and which of us geniuses forgot to pull the blinds shut.

I don't try to fall back asleep. I don't lay back down. I just pry Sora off my back, get dressed, and slide on my shoes.

Slowly, quietly, carefully, I start toward the exit. When I open the door I'm preparing for noise, but the hinges don't squeak the way they did _there_. It's been years since I lived with Nathan, since I slept in that room. I don't know why I keep expecting staples of his house to reflect on Sora's father's.

Speaking of--I'm careful to look over the railing, down at the living room, to make sure he isn't up.

He isn't.

I pick up speed without increasing sound, I walk down the stairs, I walk out the door, spilling into the street like a bird taking flight.

I'm not prepared for cold to hit me, and I could kick myself for not thinking to grab a jacket. Long sleeves won't be enough for this... I must be losing it. I didn't even bring my knife. Reckless of me.

Sun blinds from behind a veil of thick white fog. I could disappear in it.

I wish I could disappear in it.

I shut the door behind me, two choices laid out in front.

I could run.

I could run and no one could stop me. I could take any path, any direction, and see how far I can get with nothing but the shoes on my feet. I could see how long I'd survive with no food reserves, no spare clothes, no water, no direction. I scraped by with almost as little when I was thirteen. I could do it again. Or I could die. But either way I'd be free and the choice would be mine alone.

I could run and never come back.

I don't.

I continue west to the beach.  
\  
It gets colder and colder and colder. Even the stress and stretch of muscle as I jump over the fence, as I hit the ground, can't soothe me. I cross my arms tight, searching for warmth in my own body, but there's none to be found. 

My head pipes in with: Sora.

I should have brought him with me. If I'd just picked him up out of bed and slung him over my back he could have kept me warm and he probably wouldn't even have woken up on the way here. 

I snort back a laugh, startling myself. I even check over my shoulder to see where the sound come from when I realize—me. It came from me. Sora doesn't even have to be here and still he makes me laugh. 

He's going to make it hard to leave. 

But I can't stay. 

And I'm running out of time. Sora's father already wants to start assimilating and domesticating us, talking about doctor's appointments and shopping trips and settling in, and it's good for Sora, but I can't get used to this life, can't get attached to either of them, can't grow to love the sand beneath my feet, the roar of the ocean waves, swooping gulls. 

The city.

I hate how easy it would be for me to get complacent here, but in the end it's not safe for me to stop. Like a shark, if I don't keep moving... I'll die.  
   
Darry lives at the edge of my memory always. Familiar faces and names, the familiar walks down the only street in town, closing my eyes and being able to perfectly map my own room in my head, my own bathroom, the school, the whole town, because nothing ever, ever changed.  
   
What if I get absolutely sick of waking up next to Sora? What if I grow to hate our shared bed and resent the promise of a hot meal?  
   
What if I can't ever be happy?  
   
The thought of going back to 3118 Seacourt Circle makes me sick, but it has to be done.  
   
But I take my time.  
   
I'll give myself at least that much.  
   
\  
I must be lucky for once.

No one is awake when I let myself in, giving me the run of the house and no questions to answer.

I drink three glasses of water and eat the rest of the strawberries. Suddenly, I'm ravenous—I keep half my focus on the stairs, on any sound that could be footsteps, as I tear open sliding drawers and pantry doors, binging on breads and spreads and fruit. I haven't been hungry in a year, not like this. I eat until I'm seconds away from sickness, but I'm full. I'm full for the first time maybe ever, the closest I've been to safe, to relaxed, in my entire memory. Guess not being completely on guard does good things for my appetite. 

Now the trick will be keeping it all down.  
   
"Riku?" The kitchen is clean, no hint of my raid, when Sora's voice drifts to me from upstairs like a waking dream. I wonder if he sensed somehow that I left, that I came back. If he missed me. But that's ridiculous. "You downstairs?"

I back into the entry room, where I'll be able to see him from the railing. I find him with hair more tousled than usual, wrapped in a blanket, rubbing his eyes with the back of a bony wrist.  
   
"Downstairs," I call to him. "Come eat."  
   
He starts for me, taking two steps at a time, stumbling over the covers he never let go of. When he reaches me, Sora gently puts his head against my chest. I almost step back.

"You coming back to bed?" he asks.

"...No."  
   
"Hm." He shifts, pressing the other cheek against me, and I rest my chin on his head, breathing in the scent of that wild hair, clasping my hands behind his back. Holding him. Or as close to as I can stomach. "Should I get up?" His question is quiet, almost a hum.

"If you're tired, you should sleep."

"Mmm." He pulls back, staring up at me with dancing blue eyes before he heads back upstairs to his room.

...Our room?

Once his tired form disappears, I flop onto the couch, stare up at the ceiling.

I don't know what to do with myself. Especially not here. But the idea of knowing exactly how I could spend my day is almost worse, so maybe this uncertainty is a blessing.

"Did you know it's almost September already?" Sora nearly jolts me back into hyper-awareness. How did I miss him coming back down the stairs, the neighbors can probably hear his heavy stomps? I hate being startled, being caught startled, and I want to snarl at him. But I stop before I can say anything mean. He didn't do anything to deserve it, after all. And that's the constant thing I have to remind myself. I should be more attentive. And it isn't his fault that I'm neurotic. "I wonder if I'm gonna start at school here soon... I missed the whole end of last year. Do you think I'll need to repeat the grade?" I don't have a solid answer for him.

"Your dad can probably pull some strings." 

"...Maybe." I lift myself, watching him fix himself some toast with a now-half-empty loaf of white bread in the kitchen. "My birthday's coming up soon!"

"Oh yeah?" I ask.

"October tenth!" he chirps."Hey, Riku—when's your birthday?"

It's weird for him to ask. Weird for him to care.

"….August seventeenth."

He rushes me, giving me a little smack on the arm from over the backrest.

"That was only a week ago! You should have said something!" I roll my eyes. Has he already forgotten where we were a week ago?

"I guess I just wasn't in the celebrating mood."

"I guess that's fair," he replies, grinning. "We'll definitely make up for it soon." Sounds ominous to me, but I can't help but smile in return.

"I'll hold you to it," is my false challenge. I've never celebrated my birthday and I don't expect to start. I don't think I'd even know what to do.

Above me, Sora's still grinning.

"In the meantime… you know, there's plenty of time to start thinking about what you're gonna do for _my_ birthday."

"What, like get you something?" He grins wider in return. "Let's start with 'tact'." His face drops for another startling second and I think I might have hurt his feelings, but when he starts to laugh I think he was maybe just surprised. I don't even have time to be relieved.

"Not a chance!" he crows, launching himself over the back of the couch and landing next to me.

"Whatever you say, Sora." And I dismiss the entire subject with the wave of my hand.  
\  
The morning passes, silent and calm. At some point Sora's father finally comes down, and Sora leaves my side like he couldn't wait to leave. I vaguely notice the conversation they're having in the next room before I lay down, curl up, and drift off.  
   
My dreams are filled with crashing waves and thick snowfall, air ringing with laughter, and my companion--tanned skin and dark hair and a wide smile, and that familiar face jolts me back into waking life.

"Hey, you." Sora's dad is all-smiles when he greets me, mid-stride on his way to the coffee table to pick up a glass that isn't mine and run it back to the kitchen. There's something cheerful in his voice I don't quite trust yet. That I don't think I ever will. 

I cracked the code when I was ten, and now I know that adults only come in two archetypes: there are the ones who will stare into your soul with pitying eyes and pat the top of your head with a soft hand, offering meaningless and generic condolences whenever things go wrong but never stay long enough to help pick up the pieces. They're the ones who will watch you make mistakes from afar and do nothing to intervene, who can't or won't stop others from hurting you. They're the ones who are well-meaning but ultimately worthless. Then there are the ones who are willfully malicious, eager to watch you stumble and fall so they can shake their heads and click their tongues, who will fault you for breathing, blinking, speaking, sitting, standing, who will injure you with words or weapons or fists, who will take joy in watching others doing the same, who will make you bleed and call it a learning experience.

It's just too early to see where this man falls on the scale. Too early in the week, too early in the morning, too early in my life.

And I'm not planning to find out, either.

"Sorry," I say to him, and I don't know why. I sneak back upstairs while he's occupied, slow to rise from the couch and creeping up each step like I'm trespassing.

Sora's lounging on the bed when I walk into the bedroom, which torpedoes my last shot at some alone time. But to shack up in another room in this house feels like theft. I already feel like I steal every smile Sora gives me. Like the one on his face now, as he unnecessarily makes room for me, patting the freed space next to him.

"Hey, Riku!"

I don't respond right away, but I feel like if I start hesitating, he'll think something's wrong.

"Hey."  
   
But nothing's wrong. Or, it shouldn't be.

I think.


	5. Fitting In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora makes an important discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora's perspective!

I feel like Riku and I haven't really gotten the chance to _talk_ since we moved in. Sure, we're still spending all our time together... but we're unsure, like we're getting to know each other again after years and years apart. I don't think it's any secret that we're already different people than we were out on the streets, and how on Earth do you just adjust to something like this like it's no big deal? I don't know where I fit right now--with Riku, with Dad, with this city--and it feels like everything around me wants to drive the point home. 

Dad had some big work emergency to fix to this afternoon, even though it was Saturday, and Riku still really just wants to sleep a lot and take showers, so most of the day was me and the TV. Everything reminded me of something bad. From catching a news report about how a kid died after being left in a hot car by a distracted mom, to a sitcom running a special episode about some teenage character's abusive boyfriend, to some movie where a bunch of kids were stuck in the mountains but nothing but their wits to help them. 

I didn't even realize that my hand was shaking a little until I dropped the remote in my rush to turn off the TV. I couldn't handle the crying from a teenage actress with a painted-on black eye; I could empathize. A lot. Things from my life are used like seasoning meant to make viewers find what they're watching a little spicier. I thought TV was supposed to help people escape, and maybe for everybody else, it's true. But it's all a lot less fun when it's things I've kinda lived or seen or could have happened to me, and I wind up just wondering where people like me are supposed to go.

I don't think I'll always feel this way, but… so many bad things are fresh in my mind. There are ways that being away from Mom has made me see things a lot clearer, and sometimes it feels even harder to live with than actually living it was. Not that I'd ever want to go back, but there's a lot of responsibility and obligation that comes with not being a victim anymore. Or maybe I'm a victim forever. I don't like that though. It makes me feel like the fear never ends.

Still, getting to lay in bed next to Riku at the end of the day makes it all a bit better. It helps to know that someone gets it, that there are levels my boyfriend can relate to me on that no one else I know can. I feel a lot better when he talks about his past and I get to help, even if he's still slow to volunteer information. He's never been as open with me as he was our last day out, when we spent the whole day just asking each other questions about everything. A part of me feels like that was probably Riku's parting gift, since he wasn't even going to say goodbye when I found Dad. 

Man, I had no idea how close I was to going home that day, or how close I was to getting to be Riku's boyfriend. I had no idea how much I'd really, really like kissing him, which I do as much as I can get away with. I still feel his lips on mine, actually; we made out for almost ten minutes tonight when we first went to bed, both of us thinking we'd be able to get to sleep after. But we keep the same hours now more often than not, and it's going on midnight with neither of us shutting our eyes any longer than it takes to blink. 

We curl up facing each other but look off in other directions, just feeling safe close to each other the way we did on the streets. My mind is such a hurricane right now, of Dad getting mad at me the other day even though it all blew over fine, and the news on TV, and knowing that for every hurt kid we hear about there are a hundred more who will never be heard. 

There are so many hurt kids... I can't help them, and it makes me sick.

I tilt my head forward, pressing a kiss to my own hurt kid's nose, and try to think about other stuff, like how fun it's gonna be to go shopping tomorrow with him and Dad. Dad even promised that he wouldn't open his laptop or turn his cell phone on at all, so no one can put him back to work.

I feel Riku's eyes on me before I even look, and I'm not wrong. He's poised to strike, but it’s like he doesn't know if he's allowed to do anything. So I smile and that seems to be whatever confirmation he needed to give me a nice little kiss, open mouthed, before he draws back. I run my hands over his arm, feeling all the little bumps and creases and rough spots. My poor, scarred boyfriend. I think about that old picture of him on the missing person flyer, of him thirteen and alone. Then I think of him younger, and even younger, and how he didn't even have his parents to take care of him when he was little. He never talks about anything before his dad, but then, maybe I just never ask. Maybe it's time to.

"Have you hurt yourself since… that one night?" I ask instead without any planning. It just sorta pops out as my hands travel farther on his skin and find that the scars don't stop. Something in Riku changes; he's irritated, but he's not lashing out or anything, so that's a good sign.

"No, Sora. I haven't. It's not a habit of mine." I frown at his answer.

"I don't get it. Sorry Riku, I just… wonder when you'll tell me what happened that night."

"I don't expect you to get it," he says. A dismissal, as usual. "And I'll tell you when I tell you." Still frowning, I pull my hands away, crossing them over my chest as best as I can when I'm laying on my side like this. "…what's going on?" I look up at him, surprised by the question. "I know something's up."

"I've been thinking about home a lot today," I confess. "Or, I mean, my mom." Riku softens; he gets it.

"…oh. That's why you've been quiet." Huh, that's news to me.

"Have I?" I don't leave him time to answer before I keep going. "I guess I just heard some stuff that made me wonder what things were like for you when you were little. With all that upheaval... It must have really affected you." I replay it all and hope I'm not remembering wrong. In my head, I remember Riku mentioning dead grandparents and a neglectful aunt, but that was months ago and I could have it all wrong.

"Of course it affected me," he says lowly. "But it’s like you said... I was little, so I don’t remember much. I have missing chunks in my memory all over the place." He cringes a little, like he feels like he overshared. "But anyway--was that really all that was bothering you today?" 

"What do you mean?"

"You weren't honestly agonizing all day about asking me one question about my grandparents, or whatever." 

I say nothing, considering it for the first time. He's right. That's not what this is about. I still respond to his questions about my life by immediately making it about him. I think sometimes I feel too much all at once, so focusing on Riku’s pain is easier. And that’s not fair. I shouldn’t make him talk about things that hurt just so I don’t have to hurt as much.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "Just... I think I'm just tired too. Overwhelmed. I'm over-thinking everything. I’m happy, you know? But I guess I'm scared, too."

"I think you should go back to under-thinking," Riku teases with a grin. I gently nudge him, telling him to shut up through my laughter. "Hey... you don't have to be afraid of telling me things. Or asking questions. If it's off limits I'll let you know."

"You'll get mad at me," I correct him. He looks serious now. Great, just what I was hoping to avoid. "I just want things to be okay between us. When I say something wrong and it offends you, or... I don't even know... you don't understand what that does to me. I mean. I don't want to hurt you. But."

"I'll keep that in mind," he says quietly. "I don't... I don't mean to hurt you. You know that."

With a yawn, Riku rolls away from me and turns over. I start to kiss the back of his neck, but I guess he doesn't want it because all he does is tense up.

"Good night, Riku." I say.

"Hmm," he responds.

*  
I wake up again early in the morning, clocking me at something like four hours of sleep. Ugh, not nearly enough. The sun hasn't even risen yet. Next to me, Riku tosses and turns and suddenly my waking makes a lot more sense. I give him a little nudge, hoping to settle him, but all it does is jolt him awake.

"...Sora?" he asks, blinking heavily as he searches for my face in the dark.

"Bad dream?" I ask in return, reaching to brush a chunk of white hair away from his eyes. He rolls onto his back, letting out a heavy breath that catches once or twice as if he's been crying.

"No, just... a dream."

"Go to sleep," I tell him unnecessarily; he's already settling back down, his breathing steady.

For a long time, all I can do is watch him and hope that his sleep isn't going to be interrupted again tonight. I don't even realize how long I lay awake until he becomes clearer and clearer in my view as the sky lightens. In the dim morning sun, Riku is unearthly. It looks like some color is coming back to his skin... I don't think I realized before just how pale he was. I see changes in myself, too. Already I look better, like there's a glow to me, and I think the bones in my wrist aren't sticking out so much. 

Riku sighs in his sleep and rolls onto his side, but for once, I don't think it's a nightmare. Now that I think of it, I haven't had one in a while, either. I think that must be a good sign, that our brains know to wind down at night again, instead just just continuing to whir and worry.

But one thing hasn’t changed: more than anything, it's still reassuring to hear the sound of air escaping from Riku’s lips, and the feel of his chest rising and falling as he breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just a quick note--the first 10 or so chapters of Home are pretty introspective/slice of life-y, but there is going to be a plot that kicks up eventually. When I started this story in high school, it was intended to be a slice of life/oneshot collection of sorts to leave on the backburner as I worked on something else. About a quarter of the way through I ditched that other project and Home became my main thing, hence the somewhat strange pacing.
> 
> I'm hoping to update 2-3 times a week, but when the plot picks up I might slow a little. I'm still shooting for weekly updates, though. Just a general FYI/housekeeping update.
> 
> And thanks for the feedback so far! I'm glad people are enjoying my AU, I love developing it. :)


	6. Fitting In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the days pass by, Riku struggles to figure out where he fits into the big picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riku's perspective.

Sora’s head seemed busy yesterday. He was unusually distracted. Kept giving me long looks and biting his tongue when I thought he preparing to burst into questions. It took until midnight for him to talk to me. To tell me, again, that I don't talk to him.  
   
But when he sleeps, he looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I can't even be mad at him.  
   
The hypocrite.

I almost touch him, when I get out of bed. I almost run my hand over his face lightly or draw my fingers through his hair. I almost touch him but I don't, I can't, all I can do is go through the routine of shower-teeth-dress and endlessly, endlessly debate about what to do and where to go.  
   
7 AM. I can't sneak out. Not a chance. I'm trapped here until everyone goes back to sleep. 

But it's sixteen more hours till then.  
   
I'm almost crawling out of my skin. What to do and where to go.  
   
Just to go downstairs, knowing that it's late enough that Sora's dad will be up, I steel myself. But I can't sit up here and starve, and my stomach has been painfully empty since I woke, so here I go.

I'm slow to get down the stairs. Everything hurts. My feet aren't used to thick socks on old carpeting and there’s this shooting pain in my right shoulder at all times. But I make it. One foot in front of the other until I'm on the ground floor and in the kitchen, Sora's father is at the dining room table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, and it's just for a flash that my mind, a painful flash, creaky wooden stairs and Nathan in the sunlight drinking tea and reading the paper on a Saturday morning, awake and alert and ready to strike.  
   
My breath is taken for a second, my appetite suddenly gone and bile rising in my throat.  
   
Water. I need water.  
   
I move to the sink, shoving the faucet with my palm until cold water streams, collect it in my hands, catching with my tongue anything that doesn't drip down my face and onto my shirt. It's sloppy--I'm sloppy--but even searching for a cup seems like too much when I'm just struggling to remember who and where I am.  
   
But it's all back to me within seconds, and even if that's the worst possible mix of helpful-not-helpful, at least I can pull myself together enough to grab a glass to drink from like a civilized fucking human being.  
   
"Good morning," Sora's dad calls from the next room.  
   
I jump, dropping the glass into the sink--where it shatters into a million pieces.  
   
I'm going to throw up. How have I already fucked up so badly, it's been four days, it's only 7 AM. I need to go. I need to not be here.  
   
"Is everything okay?"

Sora's dad is rushing into the room, tense when he asks, inspecting the damage, and I feel outside of myself, watching as I apologize and apologize and apologize even more.

"--I didn't mean to, I'm so--"  
   
"Riku," he says, pulling a box of rubber gloves from beneath the sink, slipping one on as he begins to pull shards of glass one by one, dropping them into the garbage. "Riku, it's--"  
   
"--so sorry--"  
   
"Riku." His gloveless hand is on my shoulder, silencing me, as effective as a slap, or even more so. I don't like it, but I don't move, either. "Don't worry about it. It's just a cup. I have twenty more just like it. Okay? I'm not mad. You didn't mean to. It's okay."  
   
"I'll…" I don't finish. I can't. I don't know what to say. I'll do what, exactly? I can't fix this. Can never fix myself. Look at me. Jumping at everything, again. Apologizing for existing, again. "I'm sorry."  
   
"It's really alright." He gives my shoulder a squeeze before pulling away, discarding the glove, too. "Glass breaks. That's just what it does. Just focus on grabbing some food, okay?"  
   
I grab a handful of blueberries and retreat, halfway up the stairs before I remember that I don't know where to go. I plant myself on the landing, listening to pages turning, choking down blueberries until I don't have to force myself to swallow anymore.  
   
It takes time until I can show my face downstairs again, not sure if I feel worse about the glass or my outburst, this stranger's glimpse at my clumsiness or my weakness. I grab the only plastic cup I can find, hidden in the back of a cupboard in the kitchen, rooting for something but I don't even know what. Orange juice in the fridge next to lemonade and a bottle of soda. Stupid me; I know exactly what I want. Black tea, over ice, one tablespoon sugar and three slices of lemon, in that stupid, beat-up pitcher with the green lid, on the back porch, with my mom.  
   
What the _fuck_ is wrong with me.  
   
I feel sick asking for favors already, wish I could block my own self out when I ask, "Uh--sir? Do you have any teabags?"

"No, I don't," Sora's dad responds, giving me a little sympathetic look that I didn’t ask for. I don't care. I just get more water. "I'll pick some up for you next time I'm at the store."

"It's fine," I say. Either he doesn't hear, or he's blatantly ignoring me.

"Anything specific?" His eyes are off the paper now and back on me (fuck), and he pulls out a chair (double fuck). "Here, come sit." God just fucking strike me down.  
   
"No--really--it's fine."  
   
I try to adjust to this temporary new normal, staring down at the water in my cup and he reads and it all sits so, so wrong in my mind. I just can't shake the image of Nathan and that small house in Darry, and I can't rid from my chest the weight of the swell of emotions that comes with it.  
   
Nathan.

Sora once asked if I was mad at him, and I don't know.

I don't know if he walks past my room and opens the door, sticking his head inside and calling for me, hoping that someday I'll respond. I don't know if he sees kids on the street, teenagers, and aches and feels sick with regret, the way I used to look at fathers and their children passing by me, not looking at me, in towns and suburbs and cities, and long for something that I never got to have. I don't know if he looks back with fondness, recalling my habits, my hobbies.  
   
Ha.  
   
I shouldn't kid myself. I was never intended to be a part of his life. When I left he got to have the childless life he wanted, or maybe he and Mom had another kid, more kids, kids who don't argue and fight tooth and nail like I do, kids that wouldn't leave. In the end, I could rack off his every favorite--color, purple; smell, cumin; drink, black tea, light beer, straight vodka--and all he could ever do was treat me like some mystery. He doesn't want me. He doesn't call for me. He never knew me enough to miss me.  
   
And I never have to worry about it again. It's done. It's over. I'm never going back, and he's not going to ask me to.  
   
It's just easier to be over it all when I'm not feeling like I've just been confined again. Different captor. I'm still in prison.

   
\  
   
I lay low for the afternoon, as low as I can. There's no way for me to get out of shopping, of being carted around from superstore to superstore and trying to remind myself that I'm entitled to be here--I think--and that I won't be dragged off to the police every time I pick something up to look--I think.  
   
Sora's father is eager, too eager, to buy my trust. Everything I so much as look at is, "Put it in the cart," "put it in the cart", "put it in the cart." It's exhausting. I'm exhausted, actually looking forward to getting back to the house and being away from these shelves and these lights and all these people.  
   
At least Sora's enjoying himself, which he should be. At least he'll get to do more than just camp out in front of the TV and babysit me all day. He picks up some games he'll be able to load onto the computer in the living room, decks of cards, movies, and some handheld gaming system that I probably wouldn't recognize even if I hadn't spent the last two years on the streets. Technology came to Darry ten years late, without fail.  
   
I just want books.  
   
More than that. What I want is a library card, but there'd be no point. I'm not going to stay long enough, and I'm probably kidding myself if I think that Sora's father would either let me roam the city on my own or take the time to get me there himself.  
   
As we approach the checkout counter, he makes some off-hand comment about the school supplies all set up at the front of the store. Notebooks and locker magnets and more pens than I've ever seen. I can't fathom how big the schools must be here.  
   
I just hope beyond hope that he isn't hinting at anything.  
   
After the agony that is shopping, it's off to a restaurant for more forced human interaction. I've never been more thankful in my life for Sora's ability to create conversation out of absolutely nothing. I don't even mind that he all but orders for me, after I've offered to get the second item on the menu he's been eyeing so he can still try it. I'm so outside of myself again, by the time the food arrives I don't even know what to expect. Shouldn't be surprised that it's a breakfast sandwich, packed to the brim with meat and eggs and served with a heaping side of fried potatoes.  
   
I swear his dad laughs at the look on my face when this monster is set in front of me. Without word, I slice it in half and flop the bigger chunk onto Sora's plate. He needs it more, anyway. Besides, it'll go well with his icing-drizzled French toast. Or something.  
   
I guess I'll just do what I can.  
   
The waiter stops by again after seconds away, already asking if there's anything we need, and his eyes linger on me before Sora's dad kindly shoos him away. More than ever, I want to go back to the house.  
   
Even clean and in new clothes, even out of Darry, people stare. After all this time, I'm still a thing to be gawked at. I don't belong here either. Maybe nowhere. Maybe I'm not meant to settle down. I always seem to stand out for all the wrong reasons.  
   
I try hard to eat.  
   
/  
   
The only thing I can think of when we finally get back is going up to Sora's room and hoping for a few seconds of silence.  
   
I'm beelining to the stairs when I hear my name, Sora calling to me to come back into the living room, and it's then that I realize that he's been calling me for a few seconds.  
   
I ask, "huh?", which is pretty eloquent of me considering that what I'm thinking is more along the lines of damnshitfuck.

Sora's kicking off his shoes. "Dad's making a grocery list. Do you want anything?"  
   
"Let me know what kind of tea you like," his dad calls. I could scream. All I can think is that I wish he hadn't said that in front of Sora and I don't know why.

"I'm fine," I tell Sora, but I'm shooting a look at his father the whole time. Not a glare, exactly, but close. Enough to say "Please leave it alone."

He smiles and shrugs like he's saying, politely enough, "not a chance."  
   
If I weren't so angry, my answer wouldn't be flippant. "I don't care. Whatever. Anything is fine."  
   
Sora's dad is halfway out the door when we both seem to notice the same thing at once: Sora's going pale. Fast. Expression crumbling, he moves weakly to the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and easing on to his side. Nausea seems to wash over me, too.  
   
I ordered an egg sandwich. I gave Sora half.  
   
I gave Sora half.  
   
Sora is allergic to eggs.  
   
Hating myself, all I can think is: I would never have let myself forget when we were on the streets.  
   
"Sora…" I murmur, moving right away to be next to him. Already I'm too late. Sora's dad shuts the front door, rushing into the living room, asking if he's okay. He tells Sora not to move as he all but runs up the stairs, and all I can do is sit on the floor and let Sora hold my hand. Here, I don't know what to do, how to help. Maybe I never did, but being without anyone to say otherwise I just let myself think that I could. All I do know is that suddenly all of my duties… they're now the things I need to expect adults to handle.  
   
What use am I to Sora now?  
   
Where do I fit in?  
   
Why can I never stop him from hurting?  
   
Sora's dad returns with a large bottle filled with a pink medicine within seconds, asking Sora to sit up so he can start plying him with it. Slowly his color returns, but it's still clear that he's far from well.

"I know about Sora's allergies," Sora's dad sighs, clearly annoyed with himself, when we step into the other room to give him some peace to just doze it off. "I can't believe I forgot."

I barely hear him. I do, but it doesn't sink into my mind fully. I speak without thinking.  
   
"I knew. I knew how sick he'd get, I didn't… I didn't think about it. I just didn't even think about it." We're quiet. I'm sure he hates me now… I'm the one who made this all happen. If I had ordered anything, literally anything else, Sora would be okay. His dad's grocery shopping plans would still be on track. I derailed the entire day, for everyone.  
   
Sora's father touches my arm, and I pull away as if burned.  
   
"It's not your responsibility, Riku. It's alright. We’re all learning."  
   
I shut my eyes tight as he returns to the living room to check on Sora.  
   
It isn't alright.  
   
\  
Sora bounces back pretty quickly but then, he always does. It still isn't a relief somehow. I just want to keep bundling him in more blankets and hold him close forever. But Sora's dad flits in and out and every time he does I feel more and more suspect, I feel like I need to let go, like he shouldn’t see us doing this. More and more I don't understand why he doesn't try to push me away from his son, because how dare I even touch him?  
   
I give him a squeeze and a kiss on the top of the head as his father settles into the living room, laptop on tow, ready for the long haul.  
   
My job is done.  
   
It has been for a long time now.  
   
I go upstairs.  
   
Just barely, I allow myself to be thankful for an empty room and a new stack of books. I pull one from the pile on the desk against the wall several feet from the door and prepare to settle against the long window near the bed when I make a discovery--it's a door.  
   
I've been so focused on taking up as little space as possible, that I haven't really _seen _the house the way Sora has. Clearly, I haven't been looking anywhere near closely enough.__  
   
For some reason, my heart is thrumming in my chest as I pry the door open and slide it shut behind me, beholding the amazing view: the balcony looks over a lush and spacious backyard, and over the fence I can clearly see the houses dotting the street across from us, and further--faraway mountains and neverending sky. It's small and private and perfect. I could easily spend a lot of time up here. Hours. Days. To be alone, to have air, and space, and a book in my hand… this is what I've been needing.  
   
Relief floods me, almost bowling me over. This is better. So much better than that little patch of dirt we called a backyard behind Nathan's house, where barely a weed could grow. Better than sitting in my bedroom window for hours upon hours, staring out on the shit stain that was Darry, watching kids, my classmates, play baseball in the street, or tag, or walk their dogs, and knowing that would never, could never be my life.  
   
Before settling in, I take deep breaths, huge gulpfuls of air, salty and fragrant and sweet. The neighbors have a rose garden, I can just barely see it. It's almost enough to kill my nerves and dull the fresh wave of nausea that comes with knowing just how many times I've really fucked up today. It makes me almost feel like tomorrow is a new day, a new chance, but more than that it makes me realize that I'm dawdling, and sooner rather than later, I need to go.  
   
After the doctor, I'll go. As much as I hate the thought of going in for an appointment, I should, and then I can leave.  
   
But for now, I let myself enjoy my new book, I let myself enjoy reading again, as much as I can enjoy anything.  
   
\  
Sora finds me before I can find him. I guess the discovery of the balcony isn't as novel for him, but then he seems to be more lucid than I am at any given time of the day, and I know that he's spent much of his time exploring, the way I do sleeping. I think we both need the escape.  
   
"You just disappeared," he says, bright and chipper and healthy. Seeing his face is a relief; I almost want to reach out and touch him. "Everything okay?"

__"Yeah," I tell him. "Just... I don't know. Restless." He seems satisfied. "Are you feeling better?"  
   
"Way better," he says, taking a step outside and shutting the door a little too hard; the pane rattles, shaking the wooden boards beneath our feet.  
   
He still tastes a little like medicine when he stoops down to kiss me, but I don't mind. I just stay still as he places gentle hands on my shoulders for leverage, the angle making him just a few inches taller, his mouth warm and welcoming as he brushes his tongue against mine.  
   
He pulls away first, face lightly flushed as he finally comes to sit on his legs.  
   
"Wow," he says, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. That could mean a lot of things, and I think I'd be inclined to agree with all of them.  
   
\  
Dinner is quiet, both Sora's father and I watching Sora closely to make sure he's okay to eat again. But he really does seem to be back to health, and after we've finished we go our separate ways for the most part. I'm tempted to go back out to the balcony but resist. I don't want the novelty to wear off so soon, I don't want it to become the place that Sora and his father come to find me because they know I'll be there.  
   
I don't want it to feel like my own.  
   
I stay downstairs, dawdling, reading, wandering, up until the late hours of the night. I just need to be alone for a while. But when I do start to get tired, nearing midnight, I find that I'm also fine to pack it up and head up to Sora's room, unconcerned whether he's asleep or awake. I feel like I can handle both. Either.  
   
My ascent is quiet, unhurried. Damn... more tired than I thought. I almost regret not crashing on the couch again, but I much prefer having the safety and cover of a closed door. Feels less like strangers can watch me sleep. Even if Sora watches me sleep sometimes, which I know he does. Somehow, it's not the same.  
   
"Riku?"  
   
I stop in my tracks when the door to Sora's father's room opens as I pass, steeling myself like it's instinct. It _is_ instinct. He'll ask me why I'm up so late, or decide that no, he's not okay with the broken glass, or getting Sora sick, or... I don't know... or anything else wrong I've done since I came here.  
   
"Yes sir?" I ask, voice level.  
   
"Yeah—about that. You don't have to call me sir." I look up at him—or, I mean, over to him, since I've got an inch or two on him—not sure where he's going with this. "You can call me Michael." I must blanch. I feel like I do. "...or, if it's more comfortable, Mr. Hart works, too." For a moment he hesitates. It feels like this conversation should be done, but from the way he's still hovering... I haven't been dismissed. We aren't finished. "If there's ever... if there's a situation where, given the circumstances, you feel like the safest option is to call me Dad, you can. I'll respond to that. Okay?"  
   
"...okay..." My dull response feels like it comes from someone else. Not me.  
   
At least he doesn't grab my shoulder again as he says, "Now get some rest! We're going to have some pretty busy days coming up soon. You'll need your sleep."  
   
Like a mole popping back into the earth, he steps back into his room, disappearing from view.  
   
The conversation spins in my head.  
   
You don't have to call me sir.  
   
You can call me Dad.  
   
I'm not mad. Mistakes happen. You can call me Dad.  
   
We're going to have busy days soon.  
   
What the hell does _that_ mean?  
   
  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a fan of punny names in fanfiction, so my obligatory disclaimer is that Hart was chosen in reference to a book I was reading at the time because I'm bad at naming things, I'm not being cheesy. hahaha OTL


	7. Going out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora's perspective.

Riku came to bed late last night. He seemed... I wouldn't say out-of-it, but something was definitely up. I asked about it but he never answered. Big surprise twist, right? 

Whatever it is, it seems to have sorted itself out by morning. It's seven and we're both up, not saying a word. Neither of us have even moved since we woke, and there's a nice sorta comfort in just laying in bed, my head resting against his, his against mine. His eyes are closed, but I can tell he's awake just from the way he breathes a little too evenly, a little too quietly. 

"…Morning," I try after a few minutes. One cyan eye lazily slides open. 

"Morning," he responds, pushing himself up and stretching. I catch him look over his shoulder, probably to reach his bag, before he remembers that he doesn't need to do that anymore. Never again. 

It's kind of weird to think that I know his whole routine by heart. If we were on the streets… I could map out his every move. Definitely not his every _mood_ , mind you… but… suddenly it's all a little weird to me. I know when he likes--or liked--to eat, and his whole messed up family history and that he was bullied in school, like me. I know that he wakes at sunrise, paces when he's anxious or impatient, and that he's got my back if we're ever in trouble with the cops. I know what he tastes like, the way he hesitates to return a kiss. And the thing he knows about me… they're intimate. He's seen my mom fly off the handle at me, he's seen me hurt and panicked and in tears. That's all so huge. That's like… a-year-into-the-relationship kinda stuff, and we rocketed through it all in about a month. 

We don't know any of the little things, what makes the other tick. Heck, I've only known Riku's last name for maybe a month. I don't even know for sure if he knows mine. 

"What's your favorite color?" I ask suddenly. 

"Yellow," he says without missing a beat. "Why?" 

"No reason." We're quiet for a moment. "Yellow, huh?" Somehow I wasn't expecting something so... bright. His brows furrow, like he's just waiting for me to make a joke or dumb comment. But I'm not judging, just a little surprised. 

"Yellow," he repeats. 

"What's your favorite animal?" I then ask, after a long pause. This makes him turn over and look at me, up and down and up again. 

"…why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He's the picture of cold confidence. I don't like it… it isn't him. 

"I just want to know you more." 

"I'm not my favorite color, Sora." I scowl at him, but I'm not angry. Just confused, like always. 

"I know that," I tell him, watching as he hoists himself out of bed and grabs the day's clothes from his set of drawers, stacked on the right side of the dresser. 

"...I'm taking a shower," he says, throwing a pair of jeans over his shoulder. It isn't until the bathroom door shuts that I realize that I was waiting for something. An invitation-to-join-him kind of something. 

Man, get a grip... 

Shaking my head, I roll out of bed myself and get dressed. While I wait for the bathroom to open up, I grab a quick breakfast. Dad's up and about, but we just say our quick "Good morning"s before I head back up. It's a wait for Riku to come out so I can brush my teeth, but I'm used to that already. 

Seeing him his casual solid-color T-shirts and jeans, hair dark when it's dripping wet... that I'm still adjusting to. I still forget how to breathe sometimes, when I look at him. 

I catch him halfway to the laundry basket, where he's about to dispense his pajamas, doing my best to press a kiss to his mouth. It takes some balance since I have to hoist myself up on the balls of my feet to reach him, but it's worth the effort when Riku leans over to meet me. 

"Birds," he says suddenly. I stare at him after he pulls away, not totally sure I heard him right. 

"...What?" 

"Favorite animal." 

"Oh, right!" 

Grinning, I follow him down the stairs. 

* 

I watch Riku as he eats, a spread of apples and oranges Dad just picked up the other day. It's good to see him finally making himself something, it's like he's settling in a little more. 

"What kind of birds do you like?" I ask him. Caught off guard, Riku coughs, almost choking with unexpected laughter. 

"I don't know," he says, swallowing his apple slice maybe a little harder than if I'd just left him alone. "I'm not an orinthologist." 

I stare at him blankly. 

"Bird expert," he adds succinctly. He finishes eating in silence, staring at something off to the side. Gauging for his reaction, I slowly set my hand atop of his and squeeze. It's all forgotten. 

"I like birds too," I say. "Flamingos. I dunno, I just think they're funny. But my favorite animal is dolphins, and I like red and yellow. My favorite food is rice. I guess that's kind of boring, but my mom made it all the time when I was a kid when she still cooked. Almost everything we ate, she always cooked a side of rice." 

When I look up from our joined hands, Riku's smiling. He kisses the top of my head, muttering something about strawberries into my hair. I'm just wrapping my arms around him when a loud chime sounds, echoing through the room. Startled, we both pull apart, totally on guard for a second. 

It's just the doorbell, and I'm an idiot. 

…but then, so is Riku by that logic, and that makes me feel a little better. 

Riku and I stare at each other, unsure what to do, when Dad finally comes bounding down the stairs. 

He moves quicker than I've ever seen him, crossing the living room to reach the front door. I inch forward, dying of curiosity. 

"Michael!" The voice from the other side of the house is bright and definitely female. Color me intrigued. And maybe a little betrayed. 

"Hi, Sandy." He sounds just as affectionate, and the time that it takes for them to walk in together is marked by jangling keys, the sound of two pairs of shoes on hardwood floor, and what I think might be a kiss. 

"I thought maybe I'd have to physically pull you away from your laptop," she teases. 

"I'm not the one with twenty-four hour shifts to contend with." 

"No, but you're getting close." 

Dad chuckles, still barely in view when he calls out. 

"Sora?" Riku and I exchange a look as Dad calls for us again. "...Riku? You down?" 

I feel Riku follow me; I can always feel him sort of looming over me when he's not in the lead, but in a good way. His presence is comforting and heavy. He reminds me of cuddling up under a thick blanket on a cold night. 

Once in the living room, my eyes find Dad's hand on this woman's back. So weird... I can't bring myself to see anything else. Dad's starting the introductions before I even register her slim frame, neat, straight red hair, and pretty, freckled face. She's taller than Dad in low heels, but probably would be anyway. We aren't a tall family. 

"Sandy, this is my son, Sora." Everything about her is warm, her smile wide and genuine. "I've made some arrangements with his mother, and he'll be staying with me in order to attend high school in the area." 

And Mom agreed to that? Note to self: Grill Dad for details tonight. 

"His friend Riku is staying with us as well." Riku gives a short, small nod. "Boys, I'd like you to meet Sandy." There's a beat before he confirms what I already know. "My girlfriend." Dad looks at me the entire time he says it, and I think he's waiting for my reaction. I guess it's a little jarring, but it's not a total surprise. I mean, mom's been dating since I was little, and she's been with her current boyfriend for what feels like way too long. 

Even still, it's hard for me to get out my "Nice to meet you!" 

It's weird thinking that my Dad has been having a whole life of his own since he left. I'm happy for him but... I don't know. I'm sad too. 

Dad continues a little gently. There's a total "oh crap" aura to him, like he forgot something important and just now remembered. 

"Sandy and I had made plans to get lunch today—will you both be okay at home?" 

"Can we go out too?" I ask in turn. "We haven't really gotten a chance to look around or anything. It'll be good for us to get out, right?" Dad thinks for a moment, clearly wary. 

"Take my cell," he says finally, taking a small red phone from his back pocket and handing it to me. "I'll bring my work phone—the number's saved in my phone, so you can reach me if anything happens. We'll probably be gone for an hour or so, but we'll be coming back here so you can also give the home phone a ring if you need to." I'm nodding the whole time, confirming that I will definitely call if anything happens, or if we get lost, or end up spending more than an hour out, until Dad's finally satisfied. 

With a nod, he smiles over at Sandy and grabs his keys off the table, directing her back out the door, his hand still on my back. 

...Okay, I can't resist. 

"Let us know if you need us to keep out for a while!" I call before the door shuts, snickering as I just barely catch a surprised sound from my dad. Riku gives me a hard little nudge, rolling his eyes. 

"Leave them be," he says. I just grin, grabbing the spare key from a small bowl on the kitchen counter. 

"Ready to go?" 

"...Yeah. I could eat." 

I slide my arm around Riku's waist as we walk out the door, waiting for him to move away, but he never does. I'm the one who lets my hand drop, just as we're leaving the neighborhood and spilling into the busy street. In my mind, I see Dad and his girlfriend. She doesn't look anything like Mom, with her light coloring and casual posture. She seems really nice. I love Mom, and she's a lot of things—both good and bad--but she's never been nice.  

I wonder if they'll get married. How Mom will react to me having a stepmother. How I'd adjust to having a stepmother. Would she move in? Would she have problems with me and Riku? 

...Did Dad ever wonder if Mom was dating, or if she was lonely and missing him? Or did he just decide that he needed to move on? That we all need to move on? Did Dad ever miss Mom—or me? 

I still haven't asked again why he didn't take me with him. I haven't gotten the courage to. 

Did Dad betray us? Did I betray Mom? 

"Hey, Riku," I ask. "Did your parents get along?" He looks at me a little strangely for a moment. 

"Yeah, they did. I don't know if they loved each other, but I think they liked each other." I hum in response. "...You're thinking about her." 

"...Yeah. But it's fine." 

"What do you really think?" he prods after a few more seconds of silence. I just shrug. He stares at me when I do, his face twisting a little, like he's not happy with me.    

*  
"What are you in the mood for?" I ask, pounding the button at the crosswalk with the side of my fist. Sometime after the question comes out of my mouth I realize that no matter what he says, there's nothing I can really do about it. I don't know where things are any more than he does. 

"Something quick." That should be easy. Feels like we can't pass a block without hitting three fast food places, a hot dog stand, and a little hole-in-the-wall diners selling burritos, gyros, or noodles. I hope I get to hit them all someday, but for now...  

We duck into a chain burger joint that's just starting to fill up with the lunch rush, ordering sandwiches and fries and salads with the money Dad gave us and quickly snagging a seat outside beneath a crooked, red and white striped umbrella. 

"Hungry?" I ask. Riku just shrugs, folding his arms tightly across his chest as the sea breeze tousles his hair. I wish I could kiss him right now. When we get back home, he's not gonna know what hit him. 

"I just didn't want to be waited on." I stifle a grin, remembering the waiter from the other day who clearly had a thing for Riku, the way he dropped by to ask if we were enjoying the meal a little too often, the way his eyes kept flickering to Riku whenever he passed by... I thought he was this close to leaving his phone number on the receipt. I mean, I don't blame him. Too bad for the rest of the world he's mine, huh? And the kicker is, Riku didn't pay any attention. I wonder if he even noticed. "…what?" 

"Huh?" I snap out of whatever plane of existence my mind was leading me to as Riku continues staring over at me. 

"You're grinning," he says, taking a sip from his iced tea. 

"Oh! Yeah. No reason." I squeeze his hand and pull away quickly as an elderly couple settle at a table near us. "Just enjoying the day. Perfect weather, right? I'm hungry." It takes a few seconds, but he's smiling has he leans again to suck through his straw. I could watch him do that for a while for reasons I can't really explain. 

Our order number blares loudly over an intercom system, and I can't hide how hard I jump. Even over the sound of traffic from the nearby street, that was loud! It doesn't help that Riku's laughing at me as I rise and head back into the building. Let's see how funny it is when I "accidentally" drop his food… 

Except that I almost do; when I trip over a cord on the ground on my way back out, I have to do some serious acrobatics to keep two full trays horizontal and in my hands. Luckily, I'm so good at catching myself we don't even lose a single fry. I'm sort of bummed when I see that Riku's looking off into another direction, so he totally missed my amazing save. 

"Lunch time!" I chirp, setting a tray with two orders of fries, a large salad, and a small cake in front of him. On mine, a burger, an order of chicken nuggets, and a bowl of sliced apples. We divvy up our portions as appropriate, landing pretty much half and half; we split the chicken and each take a basket of fries, while I take the burger (minus the bite Riku takes), and he starts on the salad after spooning a scoop onto my plate. "Did we get too much?"  

"Probably," Riku concedes. He reaches for a chicken nugget a little thoughtfully before dipping it into a pool of ketchup. 

"Regrets?" I ask. 

"None." 

That I can definitely agree with. Eating feels great, even if I know that walking this all off on our way back home will probably feel way better. 

"So… are you going to tell me what you were thinking about on our way over?" 

My mouth is packed full when Riku asks, and I'm actually startled into swallowing way too soon. I pound my chest, coughing and taking big sips of my soda until the mound of half-chewed beef makes its way down my windpipe. 

"Um," I respond, still coughing. Another sip of soda does the trick. "I wasn't really thinking anything. Or. I mean. It was all kind of... thoughts. Dad's girlfriend seems really nice, but… it's weird. He has a whole life I wasn't a part of." 

"I'm sorry." I shrug, swirling a French fry in a pile of salt and seasoning leftover from a chicken nugget. "At least you're a part of it now…. Even when I lived with my dad, I wasn't a part of his life." 

"Nathan," I say, I think for no reason other than to prove that I retained that bit of information. It says a lot that he sounds more natural calling the guy by name than calling him Dad. "…Hey, if I can ask… what did you call him? I mean, to his face?" Riku's face is blank as he responds, cutting a particularly large piece of chicken in his salad into a smaller piece. 

"I called him Nathan. …His request." 

I don't have anything to say to that. Riku lived out my worst case scenario… I can't imagine facing that kind of rejection from my own dad, and what it would do to me. It still terrifies me a little. If Dad marries his girlfriend, if they have kids… will I have a place in his life anymore? 

I push the fry into my mouth finally, tongue burning from the salt excess, but I just take another swig of my soda and it goes away.  

Of course I'll have a place. There's a reason why Dad didn't just ship me back off to Mom--and he didn't have to let Riku stay, either. This is real, it's happening, and it's not going anywhere. 

"None of that matters anymore," I say with too much force, and more conviction than I can really feel yet. "We have each other, so we have family no matter what." 

Riku leans back in his seat, looking away again. "That easy, huh." 

I wonder if I just ruined the mood. For some reason, saying that kind of stuff doesn't seem to work with him. I think that sometimes it just makes him sadder. 

Determined to turn things around, I grab one of the colder fries from my tray, aim carefully, pull back my arm, and… 

Yes! Right in the forehead. 

Riku blinks in confusion, surveying the fry on the ground before determining that yes, I just did that. Smirking, he grabs two that are mostly stuck together and beans me in the forehead. When it makes contact, bouncing onto the ground, I reel back as if he just chucked a rock at me, rubbing the spot on my forehead where the ghost of that split-second contact hangs on for an extra moment. 

"I've been hit," I moan, slumping out of my chair. While Riku's laughing, I reach up to grab another fry. This one misses, and misses badly—whizzing past a table full of preteens who shriek and glare and laugh. Riku's not anywhere near as bad as I am, but what else is new: his assault his merciless, tossing fry after fry, just about every last one getting me in the face or hair. I count one, two, three—then it goes too fast to keep track of. 

I curl up, shielding myself with my hands, pulling the back of my shirt up over my hair, gasping for air because laughing in this position is no easy feat. Oh man, are ribs supposed to hurt this much? 

Only when the pelting stops do I slowly uncoil myself, wiping tears that've formed in my eyes and taking deep, shaky, heaving breaths. 

"You okay?" Riku asks between smug snickers. 

"Yeah, I think so," I reply, finally beginning to catch my breath, when-- 

"Good," Riku says, chucking one last fry at me. That sends me into another round of stupid giggles. Even more when the first seagull finally catches on, swooping over the short metal fence surrounding the patio and picking fries up off the ground, squawking all the way. Doesn't take long for more to join in, until we're surrounded by a flurry of white feathers and flapping wings. "Horror movies have been made about this kind of thing," Riku observes, voice elevated over the sudden racket. 

A harried employee bursts through the back doors, waving her arms to shoo them away. When she spots us—or more specifically, the mess we made—her eyes narrow. 

"Patio seating is limited to thirty minutes," she says. 

Yeah, I can take a hint. Riku and I exchange a glance, both our sets of eyebrows raised as we snake back into the building and out the front door. 

"We haven't lived here two weeks and you're already getting us into trouble," I say. 

"Me?" Riku asks. "You started it." 

"Yeah, sure--with one fry! You're the one who finished it!" Riku smirks. 

"I always do." I grin in return, seconds away from holding his hand before thinking better of it and tucking mine both into my pockets. A thought occurs to me that makes my stomach sink for probably stupid reasons. 

"I think we forgot about the cake." 

Riku shakes his head. "Nah, I grabbed it on our way out." 

"What would I do without you?" I ask. Incredibly, he blushes a little. 

"Live a cakeless life," he retorts, playing it cool. Even though he's definitely not. 

*  
Riku gets quiet on the way back, his responses to my little questions and statements becoming briefer the closer we get to Dad's house. I don't know what's going on, but I don't think it's good. 

"How're you feeling?" I try. 

"Fine." 

"...What do you want to do today?" 

"Nothing. Whatever. I don't care." As some last-ditch attempt to get _something_ out of him, I make the next suggestion to come to my head. 

"Want to head to the beach?" 

"...Yeah." Huh. _That's_ a surprise.  

"Great!" I tell him. "I'm down." That brightens him up for whatever reason. I'm starting to get a sinking feeling that maybe Riku doesn't like being at home. I just hope he's still adjusting, or... something. I just want him to be happy, and safe, and by my side always. 

Maybe that's a lot to ask. 

*  
Cake on the beach is a great idea, always. Who came up with it? Oh, wait, that was me. 

I watch Riku polish off the last few bites from my place next to him, my arm shielding my eyes from the sun. My shirt's off and clumped in my pocket and I'm laying on my back, soaking up the sun, sand hot on my bare skin. True to form, Riku's still bundled up in a sweatshirt and his jeans. 

It only takes a little bit of coaxing to get him to lay with me, and a lot of promising that I'll help get the sand off him before we go back home. No one's around, since we snuck into that strip of private property again, so I think it's high time to get those kisses I've been thinking about since lunch. 

Slowly I roll on top of Riku, a hand by his shoulder, on my knees, so I'm hovering over him without quite touching. His eyes are closed, but I don't think he's dosing—not yet, anyway, and I don't really intend to let him. Not that I don't love a good nap, but now's not the time. 

I hold my pointer finger over his nose, waiting for him to notice, but nothing comes. My face drops into a frown. _Is_ he sleeping? I give him a tiny, experimental poke, startled beyond belief when he opens his eyes. Which is dumb on my part, but still. 

"What?" he asks, not irritated as far as I can tell. That I can't answer. 

"What's your favorite season?" I ask instead. Riku snorts a laugh. 

"This again? I don't know. Maybe spring. Anything but winter. I can't stand the cold." 

"Spring's good," I reply noncommittally, settling on him. Riku seems to be okay with it after a few seconds. He doesn't even push me away when I begin trailing my lips across his jawline, and my tongue lightly down his neck. 

*  
The trip back home feels short, which I think says a lot already about how familiar this little strip of the city is becoming to me. It's nice... but not as nice as getting inside will be. I'm definitely ready for a shower. I think my hair is more sand than actual hair at this point. 

"We're back!" I shout, not totally sure where Dad and Sandy are and how much advanced notice is considered polite.  

"Sounds like they're back," I catch Dad drawl from the other room, sending Sandy into a fit of giggles. Uncertain, I smile, wishing I had Riku for back up. Of course, he's already halfway upstairs. 

I just continue into the living room, bracing myself to find them on the couch, his arm around her, and still not ready when I see it. 

"I should head out," Sandy says as I approach, brushing her hands over her bright floral skirt as she stands. 

"You don't have to," Dad replies, raising his eyebrows. I think I just ruined their date... 

"No, I have to get to work in an hour, I should really get ready. I'll give you a call later this week?" 

"Yeah, that sounds great." Dad rises too, though neither budge just yet. I hover, awkward, behind the couch. 

"It was really nice meeting you, Sora," Sandy adds, not even as an afterthought, but like she really means it. 

"You too!" I say, and I think I even mean it too. Time to test the waters... "I guess I'll see you around." She and Dad exchange some adult-look I don't get. 

"Absolutely. Take care." 

"...yeah!" 

I'm stock-still as they walk out to the entry, seeing each other off with another kiss I have zero desire to see. 

Dad walks back in rubbing his head, the way I do when I'm feeling a little embarrassed. 

"Thanks for sticking it out, kiddo," he says. "With everything going on... I kind of forgot about today." 

"It's alright. Sandy seems... really... nice." 

"She is. She's wonderful. Here, come sit." He takes a place at the kitchen table, pulling up a chair next to him. "You probably have questions, but let me see if I can hit some of them—Sandy is a nurse at a local hospital, and we met after I caught pneumonia last year, but we only started dating about six months ago so I didn't know her when I was still with your mom. Sandy and I are serious, but not ready to take any drastic steps forward." Well, that did hit some of it, including some questions I didn't realize I had. 

"...Did she know about me?" I ask quietly. "I mean, before today?" Slowly, Dad nods. 

"I told her I have a son pretty early on, and she knows you're now staying with me. I haven't told her anything else." 

"Does she have any kids?" 

"No." 

I stare at a page-a-day calendar propped up on the far side of the table, not totally able to look at him when I hit him with my next question: "Are you still married to Mom? I mean, legally?" If that question throws him off, he doesn't let on. 

"The first night you arrived, I contacted your mom to let her know that you're safe, and we had... a pretty long talk. We're in the process of filing for divorce, and we're planning to split custody, although you will be attending high school here and staying with me. After you turn eighteen... whatever happens, it's up to you." 

"How did Mom take it?" 

He's quiet for a long time. "...Well. She took it well. I think we're both relieved that this is all over." 

"She has a boyfriend," I mumble. 

"Hm?" 

"Mom. She has a boyfriend. She started dating a few months after..." 

Dad places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "She has every right to fall in love again." 

"I didn't like him. The boyfriend. I mean, she does, she likes him, but..." 

His hand squeezes down. Maybe unconsciously. 

"I'm sorry, Sora." 

Somehow, just hearing that makes me feel better than everything, anything, else. 

*  
Dinner is quiet, capped off by an announcement that makes Riku excuse himself to go to bed immediately: we'll be getting in to see a doctor next week for a physical. Then it'll be the dentist, and some vaguely worded hint about "whatever else we need to get settled in", which I think might be school. So needless to say, Riku's handling it great. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Dad asks, a few minutes after Riku's abrupt exit. 

"Riku doesn't like doctors," I reply, hesitating a little. "I don't know why. He's just kind of freaked out." 

"Well, his reaction makes sense now," Dad replies thoughtfully. "Should I talk to him?" 

"I don't know." I really don't want Riku to find out about this. I think his trust in me can only be described as tentative at best, and this would probably get to him. "...Actually, don't." 

Dad nods and gets up, taking my plate along with his. "Alright, I won't mention it." 

It's sometime after we're working on the dishes, chatting about nothing, that Riku comes up again. 

"I wouldn't ask you to divulge anything he's told you in confidence," Dad says. "But if there's anything else you think that I should know... I want you to know that you can tell me. More than anything, I want you both safe. Happy if I can help it, but... mostly safe." 

"...Okay. Yeah. Definitely." 

Smiling, he ruffles my hair with a damp hand and I laugh, batting him away. 

Close to nine I head back upstairs. I wanted to give Riku his space and enough time to settle in and go to sleep if he needed it. But when I get into the room, he's propped up in bed, reading, his desk light turned on bright. Good sign—right? 

He doesn't acknowledge me much as I head into the shower, or when I come back out all squeaky clean, teeth brushed, and pajamaed, though he does give me a little greeting when I crawl into bed. 

"Do I need to turn off the light?" he asks. 

"Nah. I can sleep through it." If I can sleep despite heavy traffic and neon signs all around, next to a dumpster, this is pretty much nothing. "Hey, Riku—one more question. What's your favorite book?" 

"That's none of your business," Riku says, turning out the light. 

I frown, trying to make out his still form in suffocating darkness.


	8. Staying In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku takes a painful trip down memory lane while trying to come up with a plan to run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riku's perspective.

My head has never been louder, thoughts swimming in a pool so deep and so dark I can't even tell where it all ends.    
   
Only three months since I met Sora and this is where it's taken me. Only three months to get attached. Three months and I can no longer recognize my life, or myself.   
    
Early Monday morning, I'm up, dressed, clean, always ready to go. Somewhere.   
    
I read for two hours before Sora stirs and heads into the bathroom to shower, then debate heading out to the balcony... just for a few minutes, and I can be back before Sora's out.   
   
I'm intercepted—of course—by a knock on the door. I'm zero to a hundred, trepidation in an instant. I alter course, somehow caught off-guard when it's Mr. Hart, looking just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. I'm not ever going to be used to this.    
   
"Good morning!" he says anyway. "Is Sora up yet?"   
   
"...In the shower." He nods.   
   
"Well, I need to get going to work, so tell him I left when he gets out?"   
   
"...Okay."   
   
"Great. Thanks." He turns with a grin that's a little too reminiscent of his son's, stopping mid stride only a few steps away. "Oh, and by the way—I need to talk to you when I get home." To _me?_  "You aren't in trouble or anything, I just have a quick question. Hold down the fort while I'm gone--okay, kid?"   
   
"...Sure..."   
   
Now I really need to go outside. Air. I need air.   
   
\   
   
At least my timing is decent. I'm just sliding the door shut behind me, in from the balcony, when Sora emerges from the bathroom.   
   
He sends me a wordless smile as he passes by me and into the hallway, and everything in me is fluttering and lightness. I hate myself for it. I just have to keep telling myself that I can't let it last. That Sora's just another habit to break myself of in the future. 

In the near future. 

Soon. 

I can't afford to miss him when I go.   
   
What a mistake. 

\  
   
I finally have the room to myself, and I couldn't be sorrier.  My head won’t shut up, and I need quiet, I need something to _do_ , something productive. I need to accomplish something.  
   
Desperate for the distraction, I take to my orange bag, slouched and near-empty in the corner of the room, and know what I have to do. I have to pack up. Maybe this will keep me on track. Seeing this and knowing that I can leave at a moment's notice. Seeing this and knowing that I will be starting with a clean slate.   
    
I drop to my knees on the carpet, pulling my lightened bag into my lap and yanking open the long zipper across the top. Amazing that it doesn't even catch; I must have been toting this thing around, full of textbooks and notebooks before food and warm clothing, since I was eleven. The discoloration and fading is a little less surprising, but I’ve never really cared much for aesthetics. Even less so when I’m on the run.   
   
Anyway, I remove a few water bottles to be filled or replaced later and throw out old spare clothes, leaving my bag an empty shell. Or so it would appear.   
   
Next I take to a slim, small zipper spanning the length of the bag's long side, slowly, lightly, taking care not to rip the already thread-bare inner lining. My photos reside here, the only ounce of sentimentality I allow myself. The few that Sora found, or stole, or whatever the story is, and six more: Mom with her hands in the sink, holding my head above water and I'm slathered in bubbles, holding onto her with a tiny fist; Nathan kneeling on the floor, smiling and prideful, hands clutching mine as I stand on feet I'm only just becoming used to; Nathan smiling at Mom when her head is turned, when he thinks nobody is looking; taken moments later, he reaches out to touch her hair; Mom just barely pregnant, looking straight into the camera with a look on her face that says she's not about to take shit from anybody; Nathan dozing on an unfamiliar couch, an arm slung around me as I sleep curled on his chest.    
   
These aren't the people who raised me. A version of my father who would be caught showing affection is as foreign to me as anything. Sometimes I wonder if any of that was even real, or if he was just as good as an actor then as he was during my preteen years.   
   
Strange, how warmth and pain can mingle when all I can do is wonder about what was, what could have been.    
   
But only for a second. Hurting over the things you can't change, things that happened or didn't happen so long ago, is stupid, and I'm stupid for ever letting it get to me.   
   
I tuck them back in, trying not to think about how much more sense it would make just to throw them out. I never look at them, I never touch them, they're just there to be missed when I realize they're gone.   
   
I seem to have a mountain of painkillers I could never need in one lifetime, supplied from a man I once trusted but now can only see as Sora's would-be killer--twice over. Painkillers laced with _what_ is maybe the question I should have asked when he first gave them to me. He was always working to mold me into shape, wasn't he? Responsible for half the scars on my arms and more where they can't be seen so easily.   
   
Stupid me. For trusting him. For keeping these. Maybe I'm more sentimental than I thought, or maybe I just needed the promise of an out if I ever needed to leave reality. Could have sold them and made enough money to last me two years. But I'll just dispose of them tonight. Safely. 

I can't even imagine how Sora would have reacted if he'd known I'd been carrying drugs, even if I never used them. Besides, after what some herbal placebo did to me—insomnia and burning skin and cloudy thoughts—I'd have to be some kind of idiot to try anything when I had Sora to think of. 

Well... anything heavy, anyway. I can’t bring myself to count the weed I smoked our first night in the park. That fell into my lap so serendipitously that to refuse would have felt like I was trying to fight fate. And it was just one blunt, so I think I’m entitled to say _fuck it_ every once in a while. As long as I don’t get to used to it. As long as I don’t let my guard down.

In the next pocket, I find a roll of gauze and an antibiotic cream that's only half used. Great. Where was that when Sora and I were both beat to shit and I thought I was running out? The cream doesn't expire until early next year, the gauze is untouched. Obviously, those stay.   
   
I slide my knife into a hidden compartment on the outside of my bag so it's accessible should I need it when I go. I don't feel guilty for keeping it, and I never really have. I regret the sacrifice Sora was willing to make to see it gone, but it wasn't any of his business, what lengths I would go to to keep us safe. It was never his business to worry. 

I repeat that bit in my head, a survival mantra to stop me from feeling sick with my own hypocrisy. Sora wasn’t the only one hoarding keepsakes from an absent father, and logically, the blue baseball cap folded in a corner of my bag should go. I've never worn it, I won't ever wear it, but I know I can't bear to part with it.   
   
When I look down at it, small in my lap, I can easily see it on Nathan's head, when he dared to go outside looking casual in jeans and a T-shirt. The few times we went out in public, together, and the way he flawlessly navigated the loving father act: attentive and kind, but serious about my studies, my manners. When the neighbors would drop by mid-beating and he'd scramble to make me presentable when he opened the door, dropping his cap on my head playfully while he chatted with them about their gardens, their dogs, their church events, the weather. When he'd place a hand on my shoulder and smile as they marveled how tall I was getting, how old. When he'd refer to me as "my son," "my boy," and just for a moment I'd trick myself into believing any of it was real.   
   
I should get rid of it. I should have gotten rid of it the second Sora left behind his own remnant of home, that sweatshirt that had been his own father's. But I didn't then, and I can't now.   
   
I clutch it tightly in my fist, eyes squeezed shut as I hold it to my face, just trying to see if there's any scent left of his, or mom's, or that old house, or Darry... but there's nothing, just must and dirt and orange, still, from when I stocked up on oranges from an outdoor market a year ago, and maybe it's for the best.   
   
Stupidly, I toss the cap back in my bag. I wonder if he noticed it went missing. I wonder if he misses it more than he misses me. 

\  
For ten minutes I sit with my old notebook in my lap. I haven't written in years, and I don't need to keep the reminder of anything I felt the need to commit to pen and paper when I was thirteen. Sora finding it in the shelter was a close call I don’t want to repeat; if I trash it now, if I bury it or burn it, no one will ever know.   
   
I don't, of course, so was any of this even productive? At all?   
   
Just to make the answer "yes", I rummage through the bathroom for a spare soap and tubes of toothpaste and drop those in to the center of my bag.   
   
Well. There's a start.   
    
For a lack of anything better to do, I drop onto the bed and go back to sleep.   
   
\   
When I wake, I'm groggy and barely remember where I am. Sora's nowhere to be found, but then, I don't exactly look that hard. Still, it's weird that he isn't watching TV or munching in the kitchen—no, no, maybe he is, I'm upstairs, I'm not on the couch. Right?   
   
...Right. Rubbing my eyes, I realize I'm staring at the bathroom, and there's the dresser, my bag in the corner... damn, I'm so out of it... and why am I so  _hungry_?    
   
I spin around, tired eyes finding the digital clock on Sora's nightstand.   
   
For one thing, it's five in the evening. How did I manage to sleep for eight hours? In the middle of the day? Ugh. Shit. I'm going to feel out of it all evening. I’m so fucked.  
    
My journey out of bed and out the door is slow-going, the hall seeming impossibly long before the first drop down onto the stairs almost sends me reeling.   
   
About the time I hit the landing the unmistakable smell of baking potatoes hits me. Well, at least I woke in time for dinner.   
   
The sound of Sora's laughter chases me into the kitchen, where I nearly collide with him as he drops an egg shell in the trash.   
   
"Oh—sorry!" he chirps, still erupting into giggles as he returns to the stove to stir something in a tall pot. His dad is cleaning egg yolk from the floor, a wad of paper towels under his foot, a smile plastered on his face.   
   
"Eggs go  _inside_  bowls, Sora," he calls over his shoulder.   
   
"I thought you said eggs go on the floor!" Sora responds, grinning.  
   
Mr. Hart reaches to ruffle Sora's hair, and I turn to leave.   
   
I'm happy for Sora, I am, but there's an undercurrent of rotten feelings at the pit of my stomach, pride and secondhand joy mingling with something I can't place. Sora gets to cook with his dad. He gets to learn and laugh and drop eggs on the floor. I can't imagine anything better for him. I would never want this life taken from him.  
   
At the same time, I’m jealous.

How many days did I sit alone, banished to my room, smelling herbs and spices float up the the second story and wishing I could just watch Nathan at work in the kitchen for two minutes? One? Thirty seconds? How many evenings did I come home from school and entertain the thought of him asking me just to help him set the table? How many evenings did his skill, his love, his passion, amaze me?  
   
But he didn't need my help, or want it, or spend any time with me that he didn't absolutely have to.   
   
He could have passed on to me something that meant so much to him. He could have taught me how to be good at something important, the way he was good at everything he did.   
   
But he didn't.   
   
So there's no reason to fixate, is there?   
    
More than that, Nathan was a fucking tyrant and there's no reason to gush over him like I'd ever want him back in a million years. Look at me, getting sappy over the memory of a violent alcoholic who wouldn't even let me call him Dad. This affection has no place in my head, my heart.   
   
I’m so angry at myself for missing Nathan’s elaborate dinners. Disgusted with myself for missing anything about him. Yeah, times were good with him, Riku, weren't they? How about the times he'd beat you until you bled after having one drink too many? How about when he'd call you a liar right to your face, in front of anyone who could get you out of his house, away from him, safe? Would you go crawling back to him if you thought that for a second he would take you back?

No.

No, no, no. There’s no way. I would never. Not after everything he did to me.  
    
There was a night I had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep, and it's clear in my head, playing out like a movie I just can't look away from. I'd been sick a few days before, was always sick, and tried to convince myself that that was the cause of all of it.   
    
For whatever reason, I felt my way through my dark room and out into the hall, sliding my hands across the wall until I found my parents' locked door.    
    
I stood for a long time looking at the door to Nathan's room, shivering (maybe from the cold, but also for other reasons I can't explain) and questioning what I was doing. Would it turn out the way I was hoping, would this blow up in my face.   
   
Finally, I knocked on the door, three times, short and soft, and the silence that followed was loud, tense. That silence lasted for a few moments that felt like hours, and in that time I almost knocked again.   
    
Sudden light streamed toward me from beneath the door, which opened slowly. Nathan leaned against the doorway, cool and imposing, even in pajamas and bedhead. "What is it?" he asked.   
    
"I had a nightmare," I'd told him simply. He said nothing in response, but never took his eyes off me. I could feel it, could just feel it, even after I had to look away from him. "I can't fall asleep." He'd just looked irritated, like he couldn't fathom why I was telling him this.   
    
"What do you want me to do?" he replied with cold finality. I wanted him to keep me company. I wanted to stay with him-- not even the whole night, just a little while. Mom was gone, visiting some relative; I wouldn't take up too much space and he wouldn't even know I was there.   
    
I wanted to scream at him, make him tell me that everything would be okay.   
    
But I didn't say anything. I opened my mouth to, went, "I--" but finally submitted with a shrug.   
    
"Go back to bed." He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, I was stupid enough to think it would be something other than: "Now."   
   
He wasn't there. And he isn't here. And all of it is for the best. I'm strong without him and I don't need anyone to comfort me.   
    
When Mr. Hart calls for dinner, I'm not hungry anymore. But I try to eat anyway.   
   
 \   
The hour after dinner is spent lazing with Sora on the couch. He keeps telling me he's glad I'm up, like he needs to convince me. Or maybe himself. Meanwhile, Mr. Hart is grabbing his keys, preparing to run a few errands, and I'm buzzing with the idea of having the house to myself—more or less.   
   
"Do either of you need anything?" he asks, sliding on his shoes.   
    
"I don't think so," Sora answers, then looks at me questioningly. I nod in agreement, but after receiving no verbal response, Mr. Hart starts making suggestions, prompting possible reminders.   
    
"Any snacks? Running low on anything?"    
   
"I think we're good," Sora says, shrugging. Then he leans forward to kiss me; I'm too slow to pull away, and it's fine, I just hope that Mr. Hart didn't see. I glance over my shoulder and his back is turned, so it's more than fine. The door shuts and locks, and Sora's lips are back on mine before I can register the relief. I let him taste me, let him touch me, arm around me and fingers massaging the base of my skull. As best as I can, I just shut my eyes and focus on the feeling, but not too hard, or else I know I won't be able to stand his warm breath, his slick tongue. Just enough so I'm almost feeling more than I can think...   
    
One hand starts wandering, down neck, chest, and stomach, and I find myself giving Sora a gentle nudge with my knee. He backs off, only asking me once if I'm okay, if I want to keep going. I never completely know the answer to either of those questions. But for now, I just nod, and slide down further on the couch, letting him on top of me, body warm and hands soft, mouth gentle. It's okay. It's fine. I could like this. I can like this.    
   
I'll try to like this.   
   
Twenty minutes comes and goes before we're kissed-out and breathless, another five before we've straightened messy hair and clothes, and almost ten before we can fully concentrate on the movie that just started. Well, half-concentrate, in my case, because a good fifty percent of my consciousness is devoting itself to hyper-awareness that Sora's arm is around my waist. I just sit with my hands in my lap, not sure what else to do.   
   
It's hard not to notice Sora's grip loosen when the front door flies open, but he doesn't draw away entirely. I don't know why, or why now, but suddenly the touch seems like a creature comfort instead of a monster in of itself.   
   
"Heads up," Mr. Hart calls, tossing Sora a bag of sour candies. Sora reaches out with both hands, successfully catching it, and I feel the cold as he lets go of me. "More tea in the kitchen," he says to me next. I just grin and bear it as much as I can, grumbling a thank you as he settles on the chair next to us. I try to focus on the movie, which has become suddenly hard to follow, when I catch him set down one more small box on the table. "...I also thought it might be smart to keep these in the house."  

With one quick glance, I piece it together.

Condoms.    
   
I knew he didn't believe me when I said we weren't, we hadn't.   
   
Sora reacts before I do, face red and squawking like a strangled bird. "Dad--"   
   
"I just want both of you to be safe," Mr. Hart explains, not quite meeting either one of us in the eye. "Even if you aren't—now—when you're ready for that... stage... in your relationship—I just want you to make good choices."   
    
"I--I'm fourteen!" Sora sputters, and we all fall quiet. I turn away, burning with shame even though I haven't done anything.   
    
"I know, Sora—but. Just in case."   
   
"We haven't done anything," I say firmly. "I told you already. Nothing's happened." Sora glances at me from the corner of his eye, mouth frowning. I pretend not to notice. I pretend not to notice until the conversation lightens and Sora goes upstairs to bed.   
   
"Riku, a word."   
   
Mr. Hart hits me just as I'm rising from my spot, so I steel myself for his anger at my attitude. I'm waiting for that all-accepting façade to drop and for him to tell me not to lay a finger on his son. I'm expecting him to show me the fucking door already.   
    
 "Do you mind telling me what happened today?" he asks.    
    
"...Sorry, I'm not following."   
   
He leans forward in his seat a little, adjusting his glasses. His eyes are blue like Sora's, though not as deep, but all the same I can't look. "Sora told me that you seemed pretty exhausted today... that you weren't acting like yourself. I just wanted to check in."   
   
I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. Sora. Of course. Of course he'd notice that I slept all day. Of course he'd be worried.   
   
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."   
    
"Anything else on your mind?" There's a loaded question if I've ever heard one. And I know he wants something, I just don't know what... But I know now I can't just lie. I lied to Sora the morning I woke up in the hospital, and now Sora dogs me for more information every chance he gets. The less I give this man to work with, the better.   
   
"...No. Just tired. I'll feel better tomorrow."   
   
He smiles, nodding. "Well, get all the rest you can. I've also been meaning to talk to you about that doctor appointment I set up."   
   
"...Yeah?"   
   
"Just wanted to see how you feel about everything. Make sure you're not... Nervous, or apprehensive."   
   
"...Nervous?" I ask. I barely fight down a smile. Sora... what did you  _do_...   
   
"I know it's been a while for you."   
   
…huh.    
   
"I guess so,” I concede. “But I'm fine. I'm not worried."   
   
He lets me go after that one, with an unwanted pat on the back and a reminder that I can "grab him" if I "need anything."     
   
Something like relief hits me again as I travel up the stairs and through the hall. So, whatever Sora said, I don't think he gave his dad the full details of my hospital bed panic attack. That's something, I guess, but I'll need to make it clear to Sora that his dad isn't my fucking therapist, and he has no business telling that man anything about me. If I can help it, we're going to be strangers until the day I leave.   
   
Strangers.   
   
My spirits are almost high as I walk into our darkened room to join Sora in bed.   
   
Maybe this is the clean slate I've been looking for. Now that I know what not to do, I can keep Mr. Hart completely in the dark. He doesn't know the first thing about me. He doesn't ever have to. I can see to it.   
    
I may have screwed up and let Sora in, but that's not a mistake I'll make twice. I'm not going to let you reach out to me, _sir_. I'm staying right here, always outside of reach.   
   
Because that's just the way I like it. 


	9. The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora and Riku finally get to see a doctor, though the trip takes a turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora's perspective. Yay, first chapter title with a different format! 
> 
> Sorry that this one's coming late--I had pretty sporadic internet access last week, but I think I'm back.

So, today's the day. In a few minutes, Dad's come by to round us up for our doctor's appointment and I'm way more anxious than I thought I'd be. I hope they don't find anything wrong with me—or Riku. After so long without regular showers, so little food and water, not to mention all of our cuts and scrapes that went untreated...

"Sora, not so hard," Riku murmurs. Oops—didn't realize how tense I was getting,

"Sorry." I lighten up a little, loosening my grip, and Riku responds in kind, his head tilted back in total relaxation, contented sighs escaping his lips. I wasn't so sure he'd be up for this when I suggested it, but I'm actually kind of glad he was. I think we're both stressed and need a release, and this works as good as anything else. Intimacy like this is basically therapy in of itself. "Want me to switch?"

"Yeah, go ahead," he says, shifting a little and rubbing one of his shoulders, glancing over it for a second before laying back down. Once he's settled, I take his other foot in my hands and begin to work that one instead, watching his toes curl whenever I hit a really good spot. He sinks down into the pillows, melting from head to toe. I don't think I've ever seen him so relaxed.

"Good?" I ask. His reply is a low hum as he shuts his eyes. I slow, not quite to a stop, ideas in my head suddenly that I can't totally chase away. Not sure how this will go, but...

I pull away one of my hands, still working him with the other. If it raises any red flags, he doesn't let on. And he'd definitely let on. With my free hand, I start wandering up his leg, planting a kiss on his knee as I trail my fingers up his thigh. I can feel his eyes on me, his body suddenly stiff and tense again, so I don't do it too long. Just a taste, then I shoot him a grin and go back to his feet. Even after he relaxes again, he watches me, like he just doesn't know what to do next. I try to keep my gaze from straying, but it's hard to keep my eyes off those long legs, and what's between them…

Whoa. Surprised myself with that one… calm down, Sora. As best as I can I tear my eyes away, staring at the far wall and finding myself relieved when Dad knocks on the door.

Riku pulls his foot away before I can even loosen my grip, tucking it beneath him as I call my confirmation that it's safe to come in.

"Ready to go?" Dad asks, smiling at us from the doorway. I'm quicker to slide on my shoes and bound down the stairs than Riku is, but the three of us all head outside and get into the car basically at once. I try reaching back for Riku's hand from the front passenger's seat as we pull out into the street, but he's too lost in thought to pay attention. I wish he would; he looks nervous.

The ride feels long. I guess I just can't stop thinking about all the things they might find, and I definitely can't stop worrying about how Riku's gonna be. All I can see is his total freakout in the hospital and hope he won't feel like giving a repeat performance.

*  
The doctor's office is in a tall, brick building that's a far cry from the sleek, silver skyscrapers closer to Dad's place, but not too out of place in this part of town. It's clearly old, but well-maintained, surrounded by perfectly square hedges that look too green to be real. It's sort of quaint in comparison to everything else I've seen. I like it. I don't know why, but just being here reassures me a little. By the time we walk through the shuddering automatic doors and get signed in, my nerves can be officially considered calmed.

I go to squeeze Riku's hand on our way to be seated as Dad and the man behind the counter start talking insurance and future appointments. My grip doesn't linger, though—the lobby isn't full, but there are enough people that my displays of affection probably won't go unnoticed.

The rest of the afternoon is like a lesson in just how quiet and completely, totally still Riku can be. He handles the initial check—our weigh-in, blood pressure, reflexes, heart rate—with this stoic, almost blank calmness that I think mostly comes out in people on their deathbed. Meanwhile, Dad and I chat with the nurse, a tall, dark-haired man with a killer smile and a great laugh: someone I could easily fall in love with if I weren't, you know, spoken for.

The doctor herself is just as nice, not even hurried as she walks into the room about five minutes after our scheduled appointment. All that worrying and stressing seems pointless now. Riku and I… we took really good care of each other out there. Sitting side by side under fluorescent lights and surrounded by posters mapping bones and organs makes me feel a little more normal.

That goes away a little when Dad greets her, launching directly into a short spiel about how Riku and I were both on the streets up until recently. I find myself actually blushing a little, ashamed for no real reason. It's a small relief when we receive nothing but sympathy--and a reassurance from our doctor that we both look okay.

Looking at Riku, she says, "At this rate, their coloring should go back to normal pretty soon."

"What do you mean?" I ask, unable to help myself. I look down at my arms, brown from the sun. Subtly I try to hold it a little closer to Riku's, who's a little gray in comparison. 

Oh... right.

"A lack of nutrients can cause a loss of coloration in the skin. Basically, don't worry if you're a little pale for a while. It'll go away." 

"Wasn't worried," Riku says, very quietly. I send him a little smile, but he doesn't return the favor. Okay then...

At any rate, phase one is pretty successful. We get a lot of good advice about how to get our weight back up, about how to safely exercise considering the strain our bodies have been under, how to reset our sleep schedules. Phase two is a little harder; it's the less fun stuff, where they start needing samples of all kinds to send off to their labs. I watch Riku the entire time, just... trying to figure out what's going on in his head. I can just tell from the way he moves that he's seconds from walking out and never coming back. I, we, just need him to hang in there a little longer.

Mercifully, they seem to save the worst for last. They let us head straight into the lab to get blood drawn, and there isn't even a wait. I go first, mostly to reassure Riku. After all, there's no way he'll break down if he sees me go first. There's a competitive spirit in him, and I think there's a big part of him that won't want me to best him.

I bite down my own nerves as I'm seated, a heavily-accented woman handing me a small foam ball to grab onto as she sticks the needle. I can't watch my blood spill into the vials, one, two, three, all right after the other. It doesn't hurt, though—just a little pinch when the needle goes in, and I don't even feel anything when they take it out. They send me off with a little cotton ball attached to the pinpoint with some gauze and the instruction to remove it in about a half hour.

Riku's next, and I swear I hold my breath the whole time. He seems to sit in slow motion, gaze focused and unresponsive as the nurse offers placating words as she slides the needle in.

Thirty seconds pass. Maybe even less. And there's no muss, no fuss. Riku doesn't yell or debate or argue. I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until I let go, relieved beyond words, that knot in my stomach loosening up and dissolving away.

The nurse gives him the same spiel about waiting to take off his gauze and a pat on the shoulder. I feel like I've been preparing all week for a hurricane to hit, only for it to suddenly veer off course and melt into the ocean on the day of impact. Man, all that wasted energy.

I'm not complaining, though.

I'm grinning at Riku when he rejoins Dad and me, the three of us standing and heading back to the small white room where our doctor is waiting to give us a few parting words before we go: all the same stuff, mostly, a reminder to eat well and consistently throughout the day, to get sleep and stay off our feet as much as possible. We get all kinds of referrals, to dieticians and physical therapists, recommendations for painkillers and health drinks. Hearing her talk about it makes everything seem so easy, like being healthy and happy is literally right within our reach. I'm so ready to get home and start setting up more appointments, to fix my sleep schedule and quit eating junk food. I mean, realistically I know I'm going to stay up kissing Riku till midnight and ask for burgers for dinner, but right now I'm totally up to fix everything all at once.

"It was great meeting you both," are her chipper parting words. "You've been through enough these past few months so for now, your only job is to kick back and take care of yourselves. It'll take some time and work, but I'm confident that we can get you both back to full health. Don't worry." I think it's just a stroke of bad luck that it's Riku she happens to look at when she says it, and Riku's arm she gently touches as we get ready to leave—but man, is that some bad luck.

"I'm not worried," Riku hisses, and maybe it's louder than he thought it'd be but if it is... he sure doesn't seem to be very abashed. "Don't ever say that to me again. And don’t touch me." Yeah, okay. Not an accident. 

Looks like the hurricane hit land after all.

I swear you could hear a pin drop, Dad and our doctor totally silent, until I start to sputter, wanting to cover for him as he storms out, disappearing down the hall until he's totally out of view.

"...go grab Riku and wait in the car, okay?" Dad says finally, and I nod. I'm not looking forward to facing Riku when he's like this, but I guess it beats the awkwardness of standing in that room completely stunned. I hear Dad as I walk out, his voice somewhat lowered.

"I'm sorry about that," he says. "I think we're all still figuring each other out. I've never seen him behave that way before--"

His voice drifts away as I keep going, and I never hear our doctor's response. It'll be interesting to see if we're invited back....

I make a sharp left, the first that's available to me, just trying my best not to get lost in this confusing maze of identical rooms and different labs. I decide to head for the exit, figuring that's where Riku will end up—if not now, then eventually. I mean, he has to come home with us, after all.

...Right?

I push through the double doors, squinting as the sunlight hits my eyes. I briefly scan the parking lot, but it looks like he hasn't gotten that far, so I try my luck, rounding a corner and fighting past a particularly unruly bush... and there's that head of hair I've grown to know and love, just barely in view as Riku sits on a curb, knees to his chest.

"...Hey," I greet him a little more carefully than I would've otherwise. I don’t feel like being at the brunt of his bad mood.

"Leave me alone," he replies, but it's more defeated than angry.

"We're going to be heading out soon." I take a seat next to him, taking a big rock from off the asphalt and scraping it against the cement curb a few times before dropping it. I look up at him. "We don't have to talk about it. But we can if you want."

"I don't like being touched."

As if I'd believe for a second that that's why Riku freaked out.

The distress on his face is clear as he stares out at the opposite wall, separating this building from a different medical complex. I wonder where the free clinic is; that's where I would've been six months ago if I'd gotten sick. Waiting for hours in line for a shot or medication, Mom having to either drop me off in the morning and pick me up on her lunch break or call in sick and miss the whole day to wait with me. I wonder where you go when you're poor. I wonder if you ever really have a place in the world when you're struggling just to survive.

"...I don't know why I got so mad," Riku concedes.

"Hm?" He flicks his head toward the building. "Oh, right."

"I shouldn't have said anything. Your dad must be..."

I shrug. "He seemed to take it okay. He apologized, and I think it's all alright now." The look on his face doesn't change, and he never turns to look at me, either. "...Come on, let's get to the car before Dad comes looking for us." He nods once, slowly getting to his feet. I take his hand, using it as leverage so I can hoist myself up, too.

Riku and I reach the car the same time Dad does, which he doesn't look super thrilled about. 

"Hey, no side-trips next time, okay?" he says, clapping a hand on my back and opening the passenger door for me.

"Sorry!" I respond, but he's too busy getting the door for Riku, an excuse to offer a hushed, "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," is the terse and—sorry, Riku—sort of bitchy response his concern earns him.

As usual, all I can really do is try to will him better.

*  
Things calm down at home. Dad makes a wise choice when he decides not to broach Riku's mini-outburst right away, so we make the unspoken decision to let him decompress alone. I just wanna run upstairs real quick to get something to do, then I'm pretty content to hang around with Dad for the rest of the day.

Riku's collecting a couple books when I reach our room, probably about to head out to the balcony or that loft area in the hall. It's good to see him going back to something he obviously really enjoys... I just don't want him cooped up all day because of what happened earlier.

Despite everything, I'm glad that I got to have Riku by my side through today. I needed someone with me who's in the same boat... and maybe it was a good distraction to worry about his health instead of mine.

"What do you want?" Riku snaps once he realizes that I'm staring at him. ...Yeah. Okay. Whatever.

"I was thinking about how lucky I am to have you with me while all this is going on, but now you're getting on my nerves and I'm not thinking it anymore!"

He rolls his eyes, scoffing and dropping his books on the bed. "I'm taking a shower, so if you were hoping to do—I don't know what— you're out of luck."

I bristle a little at that one, feeling like some sort of puffed up, overly territorial bird. As if I have nothing better to do than hang around him, right?

"I didn't come up here to see you," I reply, to which Riku snorts and saunters into the bathroom. Well, maybe the shower will do him good. Maybe he'll come out feeling better and not like a lunatic. 

Stomping back downstairs, games in hand, I find myself wishing I had someone to vent to. I don't want to complain about Riku to Dad... it seems kinda... inappropriate? Besides, Dad doesn’t know Riku very well yet, and I don't want to give him a bad impression.

Maybe that's what I've really been missing. I wouldn't change what I have with Riku, but... I left my friends behind, and I haven't gotten the chance to make any new ones.... I wonder if I even can make friends here, or if I'll be just as much of an outcast as I was with my mom.

But even if that does happen, at least I have Dad. At least I have Riku.

Speaking of which... I should probably apologize for snapping at him.

I set my game down on the table before I even take a seat next to Dad, who's deep in thought as he stares at an email on his laptop. Then it's back up the stairs, lounging around until the water in the bathroom shuts off and Riku emerges, dressed back in his jeans and jacket and toweling his hair dry.

My opening line, "How's it going?" doesn't go over well.

"I told you to leave me alone," he says evenly, turning away pointedly as he continues to work on his hair.

I don’t have a witty, sharp retort to offer. I wish I did, but instead I just huff a frustrated, "Fine!" and stomp back down the stairs.

Dad notices the proverbial black rain cloud over my head as I flop back onto the couch, glancing at me a few times before asking what's wrong. The thing is, that's a hard question to answer.

"Do you like Riku?" I ask first.

"I don't really know him. Why?" After I don't reply, he adds, "Sure, I like him." He changes his answer again after another thirty seconds or so of my silence. "Well, I'm not about to run off and marry him." Eventually, he just says, "Sora?"

"I'm not liking him a lot right now," I mumble, instantly regretting it. Dad doesn't have to take Riku in—what if I just accidentally sealed Riku's fate just because I'm annoyed?

To my surprise, Dad just laughs.

"I'm sure. You've been together constantly for a long time now, so you're bound to be a little sick of each other. Just hold out until school starts. Once you start making friends and going your own ways, you're going to enjoy the time you spend together a lot more."

"…You think I'll make friends?" I ask.

"Of course you will, Sora. I don't even want you to worry about that."

"I didn't have a lot of friends at my old school." It feels a lot more like a confession when I tell Dad, or maybe like there's more at stake. I don't want him to realize how much of a loser I was back home... I really don't want him to think I'm a loser. I know he won't, and I know it wasn't my fault that I was bullied, but… it's embarrassing. "Just Donald and Goofy. I didn't really get along with the other kids."

"Wow, I haven't thought about them in forever," Dad marvels. "And you're all still friends."

"Best friends," I say, straightening. Dad smiles, clapping me on the back.

"I'm sorry to hear that you didn't get on well with your classmates, but it's pretty special to have a friendship that lasts so long. You know, sometimes quality is more important than quantity." I can't hide the grin on my face. That's what I _always_ say.

"They're the best," I tell him. "We were always getting up to trouble--nothing serious!" I clarify, waving my hands defensively as Dad raises an eyebrow. "I just… always felt like I was a part of something, even if I got a little lonely sometimes when we didn't have classes together." I think back to some incident in the school cafeteria three years ago that somehow ended up in food fight; probably Goofy trying to toss something to me and missing by a mile. We just barely missed getting a week's worth of detention--we were lucky enough that the fight was pinned on some other kid. Normally I would've taken accountability, but the guy was always calling me names and shoving me in the halls so I didn't want to argue with karma. "We had a lot of good times together… I wish you could've been there."

"I wish I could have been."

"You didn't have to go like that," I mumble, hurt almost swallowing me whole. It's so sudden I don't even really know where it all came from. I mean... I've been holding onto it since I was eight, but why now?

"I couldn't stay," Dad says gently. "But I shouldn't have gone the way I did. I wish I could go back and change it." I fight back tears, sniffling as I nod my agreement. I really, really don't want to cry in front of him. "I should have done it the right way. I should have filed for divorce and taken you with me, but instead... I panicked."

"You should have stayed." The anger in my voice takes us both aback, and it's when I start scrambling to excuse myself that the first tear falls. "No, I didn't mean--" It turns into a torrent, the way it always seems to when you've bottled something up for way too long. The warm hand he places on my back just makes me cry harder.

"I was an idiot. If I had ever in a million years thought that you would run away to find me, I would never have done it. I shouldn't have."

"You said---you—you said--" Heaps of frustration pile on top of my embarrassment as I hyperventilate, trying so hard just to spit out the sentence in my head. Dad reminds me to breathe, rubbing small circles on my back as I try to steady myself. "Were you scared?"

"Sorry?"

"You said you panicked." With the back of my arm, I wipe the stream from my cheeks. Ugh, I hate how much crying takes out of me.

"...yeah," he responds. I straighten in surprise, uncurling from my pathetic little ball. "I got scared and made a bad decision I didn't know how to fix." It takes me a few minutes to process.

"What were you scared of?" I ask. "Mom?"

"...No."

"Me?" I try next. He offers a small smile.

"No, not you."

"...I don't understand."

"You might when you're older," he tells me. "But I hope you never do."

I fall quiet, feeling I know a lot but haven't learned anything all at the same time. At least I do know that, whatever happened, it wasn't my fault.

"...Did you want to ask me anything else?" Dad asks after another beat. I just shake my head as he pulls me into a hug, feeling limp and tired with my head on his shoulder.

*

I can't really speak for anything that was said during my talk with Dad today, but I really hope what he said about me and Riku getting along better once school starts is true because dinner is tense and the second we're alone together in the evening, we're fighting.

"Leave me alone," Riku says the very moment I step foot into the bedroom.

"It's my room," I point out, trying to keep my voice level but I know I'm failing. "You know—I have other stuff to do aside from just follow you around all day."

"Could've fooled me."

Teeth gnashing, I let out a heavy breath, ready to stand my ground.

"I've barely seen you at all since we got here—we're almost never in the same room, and when we are you're just sleeping anyway! Get a grip." Maddeningly, Riku just rolls his eyes, turning from me to pull a T-shirt over his head.

"I've been going nonstop for over two years. Sorry that I'm not bursting with energy."

I could scream.

"I'm not—I don't care about that!" I tell him, voice rising. "I just want you to get off my back!"

"Welcome to my world," Riku says, which sends a shock of something cold right through me.

"I don't know what your deal is. I really don't. You've been acting crazy ever since we got back from the doctor, and I'm really getting sick of it. We've barely spoken, we've barely been in the same room—I need you to back off and just let me exist, okay?!"

"Don't call me crazy," he barks, face red.

"Then quit acting like it."

Riku recoils, his eyes narrowing.

"...Fuck you," he spits, and again it's like a jab in my heart. Then, all at once I remember his mom and how sore that spot is for him, and I could just kick myself.

"I shouldn't have said that," I grumble. "But you _are_ being a jerk." 

I swear the edge of his lip twitches like he wants to smile.

"...Yeah. I am." He relents almost too easily, even with his body still tense and angry.

"I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it."

"Right," Riku agrees after a beat. I take a seat on the bed, fiddling with a slightly loose thread on the belt loop of my jeans.

"You can whenever you want to, but...." I trail off, shrugging. "...yeah."

Riku lets out a heavy sigh, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"Sorry," he says finally.

"It's fine," I tell him stiffly, then regret it. "I mean. Shit. No, it's not. Don't pull that crap on me anymore. Just be straight with me, okay?" Riku snorts, smiling.

"I don't know if I can be straight with you, exactly, but..." I fight down a small smile, myself.

"...Oh, shut up."


	10. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku has an epiphany of sorts as he rides out a depressive spell.

We survived our first fight as a couple, I think. And aside from me feeling crazy--as usual--I think we're okay, though it takes a few minutes after my heart rate returns to normal and my adrenaline to quit spiking before I can settle down and face him. I hate losing control, even more so when I'm in the wrong.

"...hey." Sora calls to me from the bed a little carefully, like I might snap again. "Come here." Begrudgingly I lay next to him, letting him slowly wrap an arm around me. I still don't want to be touched, but I feel like I owe him this much. If I shy away from him now, he'll convince himself that I'm angry or otherwise brooding over something. Sometimes--often--I wonder if that's all he thinks I do.

"We're okay?" I ask.

"Yeah! Definitely okay." Only then can I turn to him, nuzzling into the warmth of his neck and laying an experimental kiss there. He giggles a little, murmurs something about a tickle, and throws his other arm over me. I shut my eyes, not tired as he plants a kiss on the top of my head, but it could almost lull me to sleep. 

Dozing calmly in Sora's arms makes me realize two startling facts.

One: I think I'm enjoying being in a relationship—being Sora's boyfriend—a little too much.

Two: In measured amounts, calm is good.

 

\  
At nine, I realize that we've been napping together for almost forty-five minutes. The realization jerks me into full awareness and I pry myself out of Sora's grip, rolling onto my hip and stretching out, desperate to move. But there isn't anything to do. Might as well get ready for bed...

I'm blocked from lifting myself from the mattress when Sora's arms tighten around me again.

"Stay," he says, cheek pressed to my back, and it's tempting. More than tempting. "Where're you going?"

"Bathroom," I murmur, and I would kiss him in a heartbeat if I could only reach. He lets out a displeased little sound as his arms loosen, letting me go. While I'm there, I brush my teeth and splash some warm water on my face. My eyes are heavy and sore, but my mind is still running like I'm wide awake. Maybe Sora will take care of that for me.

I hope he isn't mad at me. For earlier. For today. I was out of line. I hope he isn't still mad.

I wouldn't really know what to do if he was. 

Exhaling, I plant my palms on either side of the small counter, trying to enjoy the pull between my shoulder blades as I pull my hips forward. Eyes closed, head tilted high, water drying on my skin. 

When I open my eyes, I expect to see a skinny, tired fourteen-year-old in the mirror. But that's not me anymore. This is the only me that exists now, the only one Sora has ever seen. The only one that's stepped foot into this city. I'm my mom's green eyes and Nathan's nose, brow, ears; tall and shaggy-haired and sixteen. Kids are starting to think about college at my age. Anna Renee and Nathan Imakura became my parents at my age. I'm so much of what they are and what they did.

...Strange. 

Nothing much is different when I leave the bathroom; Sora's in the same position as when I left him, except that he changed into pajamas at some point and threw the comforter over himself. I try to settle in next to him to sleep, overly aware of the body next to me, Sora's body, soft and welcoming and radiating warmth.

...I can't stand it. I have to kiss him. One more time.

"Sora?" I ask, waiting for his reply.

"Yeah," he says finally, eyes still closed and sleep maybe moments away. Last chance.

I lean in, brushing my lips against his, something in me relieved when he seems to jerk into full consciousness, letting out a pleased sound as he props himself on an elbow and rests a gentle hand at the base of my neck. The feel of his fingertips brushing my skin, tangling in my hair.... I don't know how to describe what it does to me. All I know is that I'm eased into some sense of security, enough to let Sora move me onto my back so he can spread out on top of me, and after a second of near-terror-inducing claustrophobia, I find that it's not that bad. His mouth is warm, so warm, and he touches me so gently I almost don't jerk back when his hands cup my face.

"Good night," he says, pressing one last kiss to my cheek before moving to his side of the bed, our bed, and for an hour I stare up at the ceiling, heart racing, feeling like I've finished running a mile and I'm now just waiting to cool down.

I think I'm starting to like this. At least, I think I'm starting to get ready to admit I like it.

\  
In the days that pass I become complacent, but I let myself be. Just for a little while. Before I go. In the meantime, I'm wondering if Sora and I aren't becoming one of those stupid, disgusting couples that can't get enough of each other, and if I really care. I mean, it's not that bad, is it? It's really not so bad.

It isn't bad. It isn't bad. 

I can't say so much about everything else.

I don't know what it says about me that I'm still struggling to take advantage of it all: the food, clothes, fresh water... I'm still not happy. And if sleeping in a massive bed in a house by the ocean next to my boyfriend with a full stomach can't make me happy, what will? 

Maybe I won't ever be.

Maybe I can't be.

Maybe it's a joke for me to even try.

\  
I spend the remainder of the week keeping Sora and his father out of my head. Sora accuses me of hiding when I do this, but that's not it. If I can close the bedroom door to keep the outside world from looking in, I don't see why I shouldn't have the same right to my thoughts and feelings and opinions. At least he doesn't badger me after the first few hours, at least he doesn't go running to his dad see if he can make me talk.

Nights are sleepless, and I thought I was past that. I eat what I can, but food seems to taste ashy and vaguely wrong. Every word spoken to me grates on my nerves, irritating every one of my most basic, most animal instincts. At least I can retreat to the beach in early mornings, hide out on the balcony when Sora is downstairs or out running errands with his dad.

I try to breathe. I try to eat and drink and function and not lash out, not fight with Sora, with his dad. I try not to pick now to go and never turn back, because maybe these feelings will pass and it won't be long before I can kiss Sora goodbye and leave with a little bit of closure, or maybe I'm just so unmotivated I can't bring myself to pack or plan or talk or do anything of any use.

\  
The weekend is a little better. Hanging out with Sora is fun again, and it doesn't feel so much like I'm just barely keeping my head above water. His fingertips feel like little spots of sunshine on my arms when he brushes against me in the morning, and not so much like an uninvited invasion of space and privacy. Again I think that I can like being his boyfriend, and that's when I know that maybe things are a little normal.

\  
I'm getting a little tired of being pulled aside by Sora's father after meals. 

"Yeah?" I ask when he asks if I have a second after lunch. He pulls a green paper bag from I-don't-even-know-where, setting it on the newly-cleaned dining room table.

"Sora told me your birthday was a few weeks ago, and I didn't want that to pass without some sort of acknowledgment."

I stare at him, unmoving until he pushes the bag closer.

"...I don't understand," I say, feeling like the words have come from someone sitting next to me.

"Just open it," he says gently.

I'm still looking up at him as I reach forward, taking the bag and pulling out white tufts of tissue paper before... no. No way.

It's a new leather jacket, soft and lined with faux fur, a perfect fit when I try it on at Mr. Hart's insistence. It's just like the one he offered to buy my first day here, not quite, but so, so close. I know my face is red. Why would he ever choose to remember something so small, so stupid?

"Not bad," he says. My heart is pounding. "I saw that your other one was a little worse for wear and thought I'd pick up a new one for you. What do you think?"

A new jacket from the man who gave Sora life to replace the one given to me by the man who almost killed him. How fucking symbolic.

"Thank you, sir," I finally spit out. Great, now I'm so flustered that I just called him _sir_ again. And I know I'm blushing. God, I need to get out of here before I can humiliate myself even further.

"It's no problem at all," he says earnestly. I wish I could believe it. I just owe him even more now, and it makes me sick.

\

I make my way to Sora's room. 

I have to stop thinking of it as mine.

"Wow!" Sora exclaims, sitting up from his place lounged on the bed. He perches on his knees, looking me up and down, vaguely reminding me of a meerkat sizing up a mate. I wish I could keep myself from blushing again. "That fits you perfectly!"

"I guess so...."

His face drops a little, eyes still bright but not smiling quite as widely as he asks, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine."

"Are you going to be cool to go to dinner tonight?" Sora asks me quietly, anxiousness clear in his voice.

"Yeah," I say, hoping my voice is as convincing as it is bright. "I will."

He smiles, and I just try not to take it to heart.

Not anymore.


	11. Belated Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora's perspective. 
> 
> Riku's birthday quietly passed several days before Sora found his father--no fanfare, no well-wishes, no celebrating.
> 
> This will not do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey jellybeans. Spent November-December moving house so thanks for hanging in there. My user profile should contain hiatus notices and scheduling updates moving forward. Seems like a good use for that space.
> 
> This chapter has some overlap with chapter 10--the last few sections of chapter 10 take place toward the beginning of chapter 11. Quick refresher, Sora's dad gifts Riku a replacement leather jacket.

Three weeks since we found my dad and I'd like to say we're all starting to settle in pretty nicely. Dad and Riku are still a little awkward around each other, but otherwise everything is starting to feel second nature: waking up next to Riku, dawdling until Dad comes home from work, small weekend outings, eating dinner together, and--my favorite--crawling back into bed with Riku at the end of the night and kissing till we fall asleep. Aside from a period of quiet weirdness from Riku that ended a few days ago, things feel normal. 

It helps that Dad and I are starting to make plans for my birthday here and there, even though it's almost two months away. Seeing Dad start thinking long-term is a nice reminder that we're in it for the long haul. Honestly, it's also kind of a relief that he remembers my birthday at all.

Speaking of... Riku's birthday passed totally without comment almost a month ago, and I don't think that's okay. Everybody deserves to be celebrated, and maybe he'll start to see us as family a little more if we make a special effort.

So, seeing as we're settled in, and Dad and Riku are kind of getting along better, I decide to broach the topic of hosting a belated birthday celebration for my favorite quiet weirdo.

I let the idea roll around in my head until the weekend. Dad and I are eating lunch on a lazy Saturday, sitting across from each other at the dining room table and making idle conversation. Riku's in the shower--as usual--so it's the perfect time to strike.

"Hey, Dad--so, I just found out that Riku's birthday passed a few weeks ago." He's already on the same wavelength.

"Sounds like a reason to celebrate to me," Dad says, grinning.

We run a quick errand in the afternoon while Riku's finishing up, hitting a department store to find something good for him. Almost immediately, Dad and I land on a soft leather jacket, something nice and simple but not plain. Actually, it's kind of funny, but we both zero in on it at the same time. I dunno. To me, Riku seems a little naked without the beaten leather jacket he used to wear on even the hottest days... but I guess I shouldn't complain about _that_. 

We're both feeling pretty victorious as we make our way back to the front of the store, since that was so quick and easy, and I think Riku's gonna love it. I mean, as much as he can, anyway.

At the checkout counter I spot a cool watch, black with gold accents across the face, and Dad tells me to throw it in the basket before I can even ask… then tells me to grab one for myself.

"…You sure?" I hesitate before grabbing a red one, secretly relieved to have a replacement for my poor old glow-in-the-dark watch that's been beyond dead for months now.

Even talking to the cashier, Dad shoots me a quick "yeah" before motioning for me to come over. I'm still in a place where I can't bring myself to look at the total, even though Dad hardly bats an eye as he passes his credit card to the cashier.

"So how do you want to do this?" Dad asks on our walk to the car. "Presents after dinner?"

"Maybe before?" I suggest. "That way Riku can wear his jacket at the restaurant in case it gets cold."

"Good thinking."

I smile in contentment as we make our way through the parking lot, looking forward to getting this loot to Riku. I hope he likes it… a sudden thought occurs to me, just pops into my head fully-formed.

"Hey Dad?" 

"Hm?"

"I think I want to give Riku the watch after dinner, just us. If that's okay."

"You need boyfriend time," he translates. I blush a little. 

"…Yeah, kind of." I already have this image in my head of the two of us sitting in bed together when I give him the watch. I help Riku get the little metal tab through the right slot and lean forward for a kiss when he's distracted by the way it looks on his wrist.

"I'll get him the jacket in the afternoon, then, so that can be from me." Dad jars me out of my fantasy not a moment too soon--I think it was probably going to end in a… pretty interesting place. "We should probably have some one-on-one time today." He pauses, carefully delivering his next thought. "I get the impression he doesn't really trust me."

"Riku doesn't really trust anyone," I confess. "I don't think he trusts me, either." Dad offers me a gentle smile as he touches one hand to my shoulder, the other fishing in his pocket for the key as is car comes into view.

"Try not to take it personally if you can… we don't know what he's been through." I look up at him, surprised to be hearing this from him. He's right, though--and I've long learned not to take it personally. Riku will come around whenever he comes around, and if I've learned anything, it's that these things take time and can't be pushed.

It's gonna be okay. In three months, Riku went from barely looking at me to confiding in me regularly, and I went from saying the wrong thing at every turn to really starting to get how he works. Who's to say where we're all going to be together in another three months? In three years?

I imagine this perfect future where Riku and Dad get along and we're all a happy, perfect family. I know real life isn’t going to be anything like that, but that doesn't mean we can't all try. 

 

*  
We load into the car at six, Riku totally clueless as to why we're going to be eating at the nice restaurant Dad and I picked out. I don't know how Riku's gonna react to this all. The leather jacket Dad gave him earlier this evening was just a taste of what's going to be coming tonight, and it's been impossible to get any kind of feedback from him to gauge how that went over. 

Well, I hope he's going to like it. I hope he'll finally feel welcome.

*  
Traffic is a little crazy, so it's almost seven before we actually reach the restaurant on the other side of town. It's bigger than I thought it'd be, all pristine white, gold accents, and tall windows. It sure looks classy--and the inside doesn't disappoint when we walk in, the door held open by a well-dressed couple and their quiet little kids just leaving, and all I can say is: _wow_. 

I never thought I'd ever step foot in a place like this, let alone eat in one. I'm almost dazed by the strings of lights and rows upon rows of mirrors, all casting the building in this warm glow. I almost wish Dad had warned me, not that I could have mentally prepared for all this. I glance down at my dark jeans and clean sneakers, feeling like a slob even though this is the nicest I've ever looked. I reach out for Riku's hand, relieved when he lets me take it in my own as we march over to a free table, guided by a smiling hostess. She lists the specials before passing us over a waiter to take our drink orders, which is just mean 'cause I'm hungry and everything sounds amazing.

I order a soda, briefly worried that this place is like, too fancy to have coke but the waiter doesn't even blink when I ask. Riku gets tea and Dad orders a glass of wine, which sends something weirdly uncomfortable through me. I guess I just need to remember that not every adult who drinks has control issues like Mom did.

"Do either of you boys want an appetizer?" Dad asks, smiling politely as our drinks are set on the table by yet another server. 

"Yes," I whine, stomach beginning to eat itself at the very suggestion. I remember suddenly that this night is for Riku, not me, and bite down my suggestion of chicken strips before blurting it to the waiter. "Riku—what looks good to you?"

Riku looks startled to be addressed so suddenly, and maybe that's why his, "I don't care, you pick," comes out as being so dismissive. I still end up feeling chastised, though. But I don't say anything as I nod my approval to Dad's suggestion of calamari. I just take Riku's hand under the table and squeeze.

"Sorry," Riku whispers, mouth barely moving. I give his hand another squeeze. It's all forgotten. Dad seems to notice the whole thing—Riku's discomfort, our making up--but he doesn't say anything. 

"...So I was planning on visiting my sister this year," Dad finally says after a moment. I let go of Riku, pulling my glass closer and taking a long sip through the straw. "Do you remember her at all, Sora? She came down to visit once, but you were pretty little."

I think hard, but I can't remember any family ever coming to visit us. Honestly, all I really remember is Mom and me. Even my memories of Dad living with us are kind of fuzzy, like I'm trying to view them through the static on our old TV.

"...Nope. No, I don't think I do."

"Well, I thought that I'd ask her to make room for two more. I know she'll be thrilled to see you again... and to meet Riku," Dad adds kindly.

"That sounds fun! Where does she live?"

"Up in the mountains," Dad replies. "So the first snow should be happening about the time we head over... we'll have to pick up some winter coats." 

"Great," Riku mumbles. I'm planning to let it slide, but Dad decides to jump in on this one.

"Is something wrong, Riku?" Riku goes a little pink, crossing his arms and staring out at the herd of waiters, zigging this way and that, balancing trays and collecting dirty dishes.

"It snowed where you used to live, didn't it?" I jump in, not knowing what else to do, but hoping beyond hope that this just gives Riku an easy out.

"Yeah," Riku responds darkly. He shrugs. "So I'm used to it." I can tell that Dad's trying to come up with a delicate way to say whatever it is he's gonna say.

"...Are you from somewhat nearby, then? She only lives a few hours north." Riku smiles wryly for just a split-second, then it's gone.

"No, I'm not from around here."

Sense of impending doom mounting, I try to change the subject a little.

"I've never seen snow before!" I tell Dad, reaching for a little breaded tentacle as our waiter sets the plate of calamari in front of us. I examine it for a moment, not sure how I feel about eating something that looks nearly the same as it did when it was alive. But as long as I still feel compelled to eat everything set in front of me, I guess I can think about the morality of the thing later. I dip it into a creamy marinara sauce, taking an experimental nibble.

...Okay, that's good. That's really good. I go for another, which seems to be Riku's cue to take one too, similarly hesitant until he gets his first bite. 

We're halfway done when we place our final orders; Riku orders a salad tossed with fruit and nuts while Dad goes for prime rib and I ask for a bowtie pasta slathered in a creamy sauce with a name I can't pronounce.

"...I think you'll really enjoy it," Dad says after a moment of watching us pick at the appetizer plate until there isn't much left. "She lives in a cabin on the edge of the woods... it's a lot like walking into a Christmas card. And you're really going to like your Aunt, she's a kick."

"Can we build a snowman?" I ask.

"Absolutely." I'm beaming, I know I am. I turn to Riku, grinning. 

"I'd kick your butt in snowball fight."

"…Okay," Riku says, like he's humoring me. I frown, not sure where to go when he isn't directly challenging me. But it's there, damn it. 

"Really."

"Okay."

...Okay, fine. I direct my attention back to Dad, only to be distracted by the steaming tray of food approaching. Or, I mean, the person bringing a steaming tray of food.

"Is that going to be enough?" Dad asks Riku as they set the salad in its pretty glass bowl front of me by mistake. I don't say anything, I just push it aside and give the waitress a hand as she narrowly gives my pasta to Dad.

"Yeah," Riku responds, turning to me and effectively ending that conversation before it can begin. I shoot Dad an apologetic look, but he just shrugs and starts eating. I really hope Riku gets his act together soon... I don't want to know what happens if Dad's patience runs out. I try to convince myself that if Riku could warm up to me, he can warm up to Dad, too. It's just going to take time. 

I just want everyone sitting at this table to like each other....

I try to think about Dad's sister and the promise of a vacation. I know we haven't actually done much since we got here, but the idea of kicking back and playing around in the snow—with Riku—is something I'm already looking forward to. I'm thinking cold air and warm kisses, holding mittened hands and sharing hot drinks. I'm excited to meet my family, too, of course. Mom wasn't very close to hers, so I never got to meet my grandparents. I think her only sibling died when she was little but we didn't talk about it a lot. We didn't talk about a lot of things.

"Dad, do you have other siblings?" He nods, an acknowledgement while I wait for his answer. I got him right when he started chewing.

"Yeah—three sisters in all."

"Cool."

Man, I can't imagine what that must've been like... it would have been really cool to grow up with siblings, but I guess Donald, Goofy and I got pretty close. I wonder how they're doing... I guess it's sort of moot right now. There's nothing I can do, so I just try to take my time and really taste my food, not just scarf it down like I'll never see food again in my entire life. We eat in comfortable silence otherwise. It's nice.

As we finish up, I catch Dad pull aside a waiter and my stomach flips. I'm grinning for a good minute, anticipation building for I know what's gonna happen next. Riku's gonna kill me, but it's all going to be worth it just to see the look on his face when--- 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Five waiters burst out of the kitchen door just to our left, a massive slice of chocolate cake in hand, yellow candle stuck right in the center and burning away. I can't fight the grin that splits my face, watching Riku intently.

Riku jumps at the sound, then tenses at the realization that all of this noise and fanfare is for him. His eyes are wide as they set the cake in front of him and his face is definitely pink... but I'm not sure that I'm faring much better; even if it's not for me, the dozens of pairs of eyes on our table is a little daunting, at least for the thirty or so seconds it lasts before the other patrons slowly return to their own meals.

Riku doesn't say anything. His face doesn't move. He doesn't even blink. I feel my face relax, smile drooping till it's gone. Dad and I exchange a nervous look, hoping we didn't cross some major line. We didn't mean to make him short-circuit or anything...

"Riku?" I ask.

"What the fuck?" he asks, finally, giving me a shove. I _think_ he's messing around, but even still my laughter is just as nervous as it is joyful. 

"It wasn't my idea!" I squeak between fits of laughter as he gives me another hard nudge. 

"It's not my birthday, you dork!"

"But it _was_!" At that, all Riku can do is shake his head, fighting the smile that threatens to appear. I give him a little poke in the side, which results in another nudge in mine.

"Hey—blow out the candle before you end up with a wax-flavored cake," Dad tells Riku, who slowly lowers his hands halfway from wherever they were going to end up—probably on me, probably somewhere unpleasant and mildly painful. Even though Dad smiles when he says it, Riku still looks like he was just chastised. That's where I jump in.

"Do you want help?" I ask, already grabbing my fork. 

"Go for it," Riku leans back, giving me full reign, but there's one problem.

"You didn't blow out your candle." Riku just stares at me. "...It's your birthday cake! I'm not going to blow out your candle."

Riku sounds a little irritated when he responds. "Sora, just do it. I don't care."

"I can't! Riku! It's _your_ cake--"

"Sora, it's fine--"

We both jump when Dad leans forward a few inches, then the candle's out like that.

"I made the decision for you," he says patiently.

"...thanks," Riku says, nearly bowling me over when he actually offers my dad a small smile.

*  
Dad buys the rest of the cake before we head home, which means we're probably gonna have dessert for a week at this rate. 

I mean... I'm down.

I offer Dad a piece, but he says that if he eats sugar this late he won't be able to get to sleep, but tells me to go ahead if I want before he heads upstairs to keep working. It's kind of a bummer that I won't have his company, but that doesn't stop me from carving out a decently sized sliver for myself. I set it on a small dessert plate, watching it topple onto its side under its own weight. Three layers of cake fused together with mouse and topped with ganache will do that, I guess. Ugh, I can't wait. No matter how full I thought I was from my pasta, there's always room for dessert.

"Hey, Sora?" Riku calls, still hanging around half-in, half-out of the kitchen.

"Thought you would've gone upstairs already," I reply, grinning. He shrugs. "What's up?"

"Thanks for tonight." I only grin wider, warm down to my toes. I _knew_ this would work, I _knew_ he'd appreciate it! He smiles in return, following that soft, sweet look with a rough sock to my arm. _Whoa!_ I teeter a little, trying to find my balance without dropping my plate. "Stop telling your dad things about me. I know you said something to him before we went to the doctor, and I know you told him about my birthday. Cut it out." His goodbye comes in the form of another rough punch right in the same spot, so it's seriously smarting as I watch Riku leave and head up the stairs, mildly stunned.

I follow him as soon as I can actually move, wondering if Riku's really mad at me or not. I think not... if he were, I don't think he would have hit me, for one thing. I also doubt his communication would have been as clear.

What am I going to do with him?

With that bit of uncertainty out of the way, I feel my heart rate pick up with every set of steps I take, up each stair and down the hall. I saw Riku two minutes ago, and for some reason I'm actually excited to see him when I open the door. It's like my body knows what's coming next. Man, I can't wait to kiss him. First thing I'm gonna do after I eat is mess up his hair... I wanna touch him so bad.

He spares me a glance as I walk in, shutting the door behind me, his lips quirking as I twist the lock. 

"Don't get crumbs on the bed," he says, turning onto his side as he returns to his book. He stretches languidly, landing on his back, shirt ridden up just enough to give me a little sliver of skin. Does he do this on purpose? 

...cake can wait, right?

I settle next to him when he rolls onto his side again, almost spooning but he's kind of stretched out funny so I can't get as close as I'd like. I'm close enough to lean in and kiss his neck, though, which works for now I guess. I graze his soft skin with my teeth lightly, grinning when he gives a start, jerking a little as if a shiver just went down his spine.

"…just eat your cake, Sora," Riku says softly. "And I'll finish this chapter. And then…" 

He doesn't finish. He doesn't really need to; sure, Riku's the bookworm and not me, but I can still read between the lines. 

I kiss the short, white line I left on his skin before it fades back into soft pink, going back to the plate on my bedside table. I'm still watching him as I take my first bite and--yep, just as good as I remembered. Good food, good view, good night… I'm honestly a little surprised this wasn't a disaster. I never know which way this is gonna go. And next year's gonna be even better, since we'll be able to celebrate on his actual birthday. Whatever happens, we're gonna need balloons. Way more balloons.

Next to me, Riku shifts until he's on his back again, head only half-supported by the mattress. I swear, if he moves one more time, he's gonna end up on the floor. He doesn't even notice. I could probably get up and start dancing and he wouldn't pay attention for even a second; I haven't seen him this concentrated since I saw him pacing the holding room at that police station a few months back… and despite that memory still sending something bad through me, it's nice seeing this on him in a totally different context. He always seems ready to jump out of his own skin. I'm glad he has interests. Meanwhile… I'm still such a blah. Maybe this year will be when I find out what I'm good at and what I like.

But until then, I know I like Riku and making out, so it's music to my ears when he finally slams his book shut and sets it on the table.

"…hey," I say, super casual. He grins, scooping a glob of chocolate frosting that landed on the side of the plate and popping it into his mouth. I could watch him suck his finger all day, to the point that when he pulls it back out I have to bite down a disappointed little whine. 

"Hey," he says, only seizing up a little when I smush our lips together, and in another second he's melting into it, lips parting, our tongues grazing. "…eat your cake, stupid." I fall back onto my pillow, snort-laughing.

"Can I get a little help?" I gingerly take the small plate with two fingers and a thumb, holding it out to him. 

"Can't finish it on your own?" Riku asks, eyebrow raised. Is that a challenge?

"Well, I could, but I don't think I could do anything but sleep after…"

"That won't do." His voice is low and silky when he says it; when Riku swipes another finger through the frosting, I honestly think I might lose it. He only seems to notice the way I watch him, enraptured, when his finger makes half the journey to his mouth--and that might be why he makes a detour, dragging the dollop down my nose, creating a cold, sticky, sugary trail in his wake.

"Uugh!" I cry out, blindly pulling away from him as he just sits in front of me, laughing and laughing. I think I get most of it off when I wipe my nose with the back of my wrist, sucking until I accidentally leave a wet, red mark on the sensitive skin there. Chocolate's gone, though.

I'm just dropping my arm when Riku lunges forward, meeting my lips almost a little too hard but I'm not exactly going to turn away from his enthusiasm. He tastes like the frosting he swiped from my plate, but even better he tastes like Riku. I wrap my arms around him, running my hands down his sides until they meet behind his back. I'm really, really tempted to drop them lower… but I resist, instead pulling him on top of me as I fall back on the bed. He's a warm, heavy weight on me, all safe and soft and good. 

Riku suddenly pulls away, leaning back on his heels, and I can't fight the disappointed, dying-whale sound that comes out of me. I'm just glad he doesn't use that as another excuse to poke fun at my expense; he's too occupied with the cake, turning at the waist to swipe the fork from the plate and using its side to cut off a corner. I watch wide-eyed as he eats. He used my fork. Like, it was in my mouth and now it's in his. I don't know why, but my face flames. That was really hot. Or maybe _he's_ hot.

Still chewing, he leans over me again, brushing his hair behind him so I can kiss and nip at his neck. He swallows hard as I place a hand on his back again, and again I really want to just go a few inches _lower_ but can't muster the courage. Instead I leave it there, tracing slow circles with my thumb and using my free hand to stroke the hair falling over his shoulder. I plant a kiss at the edge of his jaw, reaching just a few centimeters over to give his earlobe an experimental little suck. I don't know how I feel about it so I just work at his neck again, but it gets a really incredible little gasp from Riku so I guess that's a go.

And suddenly I'm hot--really hot--and my clothes feel a little too tight, like I suddenly outgrew them. I try to subtly wiggle my way out of my jacket, but Riku's not oblivious. He catches me right away, watching closely like he doesn't know where to go from here.

"Just--warm--" I mutter, trying to lean away just enough so I don't smack him in the face as I get my arms free and drop it on the floor. I guess the added perk is that I get to be that much closer to him.

I grin up at him, but he's still… well, still. 

"Hold on," I try next, reaching out only to find that the fork is out of reach, so my idea of romantically feeding him the last of the cake is shot. So my quick plan B is to just grab it with my fingers, holding it out to him and expecting Riku to take it from me. Needless to say, my heart skips a beat when he wraps his lips around my fingers instead of reaching out, letting the soft cake dissolve on his tongue before pushing his head forward and _sucking_. I don't think I can remember how to breathe. It's more than the way his mouth feels, wet and hot, so _perfect_ , it's the way he looks up at me with those amazing blue-green eyes as he takes my finger in up to the knuckle, the slight flush on his face when he lets me go.

"…We should probably clean up," he says, false cool firmly in place, even though he totally falters when I surprise him with one last kiss.

"Probably," I agree, beaming. "But first—hold on--" I roll onto my side, reaching into the bedside table drawer and stretching out, feeling around blindly for—there it is! I push myself forward with one hand so I can get that extra inch, grabbing Riku's watch and fishing it out. "I got this for you. Happy birthday."

"It's not my birthday," Riku says, taking it from my grasp and turning it a few times, examining closely. 

"But it _was_." Riku shakes his head, smiling, and presses a kiss to my forehead as he sets the watch back on the table.

"...Stupid," he says, kissing me again. I can't stop grinning. I love him. Even though this didn't go how I pictured it in my head, I wouldn't change it.

As we collect the fork and plate and head downstairs, hand-in-hand, all I can think is: Riku's birthday was a massive success. 

*

With August drawing to a close, school is on everyone's mind. Honestly, just thinking about it makes me a little sick. There are so many conflicting emotions… excitement, fear, dread… I'm just not ready. But at the same time I know I won't ever be, so I need to plunge in head-first. 

Besides, with Riku by my side… I can do anything. 

*

...except, it's a little harder to be confident when Dad informs us that he's gone ahead and filled out whatever paperwork he had to take care of to enroll us both in our district's high school, and we'll be starting on the first day just like everybody else. Just like all the normal kids who didn't spend their summer vacations wandering around the middle of nowhere trying not to die. The logistics of going back and just acting like it never happened is almost dizzying, so I just try not to think about it that much.

It doesn't help that Dad keeps teasing me. I swear he keeps dropping hints about something happening when school gets closer, and it's getting closer and closer every day. The anticipation is insane; I rotate between emotions so fast I never really know what I'm really feeling at any given time.

When Saturday rolls by, I'm trying to take it easy. We only have one more week of summer, and next Monday feels like a death sentence whenever I think too hard about all the things that could go wrong when I set foot onto that campus. High school is gonna be like middle school times a hundred, and whatever that means… I gotta roll with it.

I just savor the last of whatever this limbo stage is until we get back into actual society, cuddled on the couch with Riku and laughing at an infomercial chock full of over-the-top acting.

The doorbell rings at close to ten but I brush it off, assuming it's Sandy and Dad's got another date he forgot about. I don't even look up from the TV when Dad rushes out from the kitchen, but it's definitely unexpected when he calls me once he reaches the door.

"Hey Sora, you're going to want to get up," he says. Not ominous at all, right?

Riku and I exchanged a sort of curious-nervous-weirded out look as I slowly, begrudgingly rise from my comfy place nestled against him.

I head over to Dad's side as he unlocks the door and pulls it open, and what I see next almost knocks my socks off.

Donald and Goofy.

Here. 

In front of me.

In Okeanos.

Here.

They're _here_.

My mouth drops open. For what feels like an hour, I try to force out words.

_How?_

I mean, I'm happy to see them, more than I've ever been. But... how?

"You can't get rid of us that easy," Donald says, fighting a smile. I could kick myself right about now, but just hearing his voice makes me burst into tears. If I wipe them away quickly enough, it's like it never happened, right?

Goofy reaching out to give me a pat on the shoulder almost does it again, but at least now I'm smiling too wide to even think of crying again.

"I'm so happy to see you guys!"

I don't know who steps forward first, but we're all huddled together, hugging, and this wave of security washes over me. Donald, Goofy, my dad, Riku… I've never been around so many people who care about me and have my back. I can't believe Dad would arrange this… I can't believe he knew that this was just what I needed.

We're all chattering at once as we head into the house, Dad overseeing with a smile while I help out with bags and suitcases. 

"Do you need anything or should I leave you to it?" he asks.

"I think we got it, Dad, thanks." I toss Donald's backpack into the downstairs guest room, mind whirring with things to do and getting them settled in, the stuff I want to show them even though I've only walked around town a handful of times, like the beach, and most importantly-- "Riku!" I call over my shoulder as we continue into the living room. 

"I'm right here," Riku says coolly. I think I blush, but I might just be warm from all this happiness.

"Oh, sorry!" I respond, grinning. "Riku, I want you to meet Donald and Goofy, my best friends." At that I step aside, only faltering a little as I continue, watching them watch each other. "Guys--this is… um. You didn't really get to properly meet. This is Riku, my boyfriend." 

"Pleasure," Riku says, turning his back just as Goofy goes to stick his hand out for a shake. I watch, vaguely horrified, as Riku heads to the stairs. I swear if he could leave a trail of ice in his wake, he would.  
  
"Guys.…" I start, watching Donald's expression get all sour and judgmental as Goofy just looks baffled, like he's just now realizing what happened. I want to apologize, which just pisses me off. I don't know what's wrong with Riku, but I can deal with that later. 

After all, I have some serious catching up to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shower me with love and attention please thank you


	12. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku meditates on boredom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riku's perspective.

Being stuck upstairs hearkens back to the worst period in my entire life. I'm tired, I'm restless, I'm trapped, hiding and _bored_. Again. I never thought this would happen again. It's like being with Nathan, in that house, where there was never anything to do and no one to talk to most of the time.

For five years my only time was between 3:30 and 5, before Nathan was home from work, when I could eat in the kitchen, laze on the couch, watch TV, sit around where I liked. From 4:55 on, it was my room for the night. Partly to follow orders. Partly because I was afraid of him. 

So I stayed put, I read, I wrote, I studied, I drew, I slept. I obeyed and obeyed and obeyed and obeyed. I didn't live in that house, in that town-- I wasn't alive, I existed. And out of all the terrible things that happened there, it was the boredom I couldn't stand. As the years went by, the bullying at home, at school, went from surprising to hurtful until finally I reached some sort of uneasy acceptance. But boredom is the inability to cope with loneliness. Becoming useless, listless. It's boredom I can't stand.

And I'm so bored.

\

The summer before eighth grade, Mom took me out to pick up new school supplies, and we bought one notebook too many. That was the year that my English teacher read my writing and told me I had a gift, that I needed to nourish it and let it grow. That was the year my art teacher looked at an assignment I'd completed, eyebrows raised, and said, "This is pretty good," and told me that if I worked hard, I would only get better. 

That was the year I recorded everything into a college-ruled, hardbound notebook, the things I saw, the things I felt. It sits in my bag like a stone, and all morning while I'm cooped up and alone, I go back to it, wondering what to do. 

There are six blank pages in the back, but I know I won't write any more. I don't write anymore. That leaves fifty-nine pages filled from top to bottom, but I won't read them. I tried, back in the shelter, and all it ever got me was caught. I don't know what I would have done if Sora had read it, what he would have found there. What he would have thought of me. I know exactly what the kids at school thought. 

My notebook survived being dropped from my hands after hard shoves in the hall, survived skidding through mud when I was outright pushed over, survived the threats of ripped-out pages and angry red scribbles on the covers. 

I survived. 

So it seems like a waste just to throw it out like all of that was for nothing.

It wasn't for nothing.

I wasn't for nothing.

 

\

I pace the room, planning some vague getaway that involves climbing down from the balcony somehow, slipping through the front door unnoticed somehow, just completely disappearing somehow. I don't know how to be alone in my head anymore. And I miss Sora. Now, of all times, I want to be with him. I want to rest next to him, want to catch the scent of the hair when the sea breeze flows through our room from the window.

I always want exactly what I can't have, huh?

Sure, I could go downstairs and sit with _them_ like Sora asked me to not ten minutes ago, and then what? His friends are here for him, not me, so I don't have a place in their little group. Besides, they wouldn't want me there. Not even Sora. It's nice of him to ask but.... that's all it is. Nice of him. I don't know why he drops by every ten, fifteen minutes to see if I've changed my mind. We both know I don't belong.

\

 

I end up on the balcony once the clockwork knocking becomes too much; I count on Sora to just assume that I'm sleeping, since that's all I ever do, according to him.

It could be worse. I like it up here, which is more than I can say about... anywhere else, I guess. Someday when I'm ready to settle down... I don't need a lot, but I want nice things for myself. Even if I don't deserve it, I want to make something resembling a life for myself. A yard and a nice view. And air to unfuck my head.

For the first time it hits me very fully that this fake future I'm conceiving for myself doesn't include Sora, and what that really means.

I think I might be ruining our relationship, anyway, if the way his frown deepens every time I shoo him off is any indicator. And then there was our fight last week. I'm fucking this up, but I don't really know how to do it any other way.

I guess it doesn't really matter in the end.

\

I wind up sitting curled with my back against the glass window, finishing a book. You'd think I'm always just finishing a book. In the back of my head, something nags at me to get writing, but I squash that down. It seems like the relic of another life.

All of this does, and I can't stand it.

How do I _always_ end up going full circle?

...Well. Maybe I shouldn't go that far. Okeanos is better than Darry by miles, and there's no comparing Sora with anyone I saw on a day-to-day basis there. And sitting out here is nice; I'm not trapped in my lonely bedroom, cooped up next to my window, hoping for something to happen. I could go downstairs if I wanted to. Could go outside, if only I could deal with the questions it would earn me. And least have this space that's private but open and I don't feel like I'm going to suffocate to death at any moment. Private, open, and free. And maybe a little dusty, too.

Ugh... that's not going to be fun to brush off my light jeans.

That's it; no more twiddling my thumbs, I have to do something. I jump onto my feet, prying the door open and slipping back inside, moving into the bathroom and taking the cleaning supplies from under the sink, everything I can fit into my arms as I head back out. For almost an hour it's nothing but dusting and scrubbing and organizing, reorganizing. I finally get to concentrate, mindless, involved in a task with clear start and clear end.

I learn that the rails are meant to be white, not yellow, the grime melting away with every spray from the bottle of cleaner; corners and cracks and crevices lighten as caked-on dust is scrubbed away. I sweat and lose my breath, unprepared for the amount of energy this would take. It's good.

We have a spare chair in the bedroom that could probably survive weathering from the salt blowing in from the ocean, so out that comes, pushed into a corner away from the sliding door. Two books fit in an empty basket I find in the bathroom, and that basket fits under the chair outside. 

I step back to admire my work.

It looks good. It looks like it's mine.

But it's not. And I can't let myself forget that.

 

\

Sora doesn't bother coming upstairs again until hours after a dinner I couldn't bring myself to attend. I don't know if I'm happy to see him, if I want him to kiss me or just leave me alone. I don't know what I want, but I feel like anything will leave me feeling disappointed.

After Sora crawls into bed to sleep, I stare at the ceiling, not quite ready for tomorrow.

I'm going to the beach. Fuck it. I'm going to the beach.

I throw the covers from my body decisively, remembering Sora a moment too late. He doesn't even stir, only moves to grab the comforter and curl into it, letting out a single mighty snore. Tiptoeing out of my room isn't new to me; late-night water runs were always performed with the utmost amount of stealth back when I lived with Nathan. He didn't like to see me out of my room, much less at two, three, four in the morning. He always thought I was up to something, up to no good.

He didn't like to see me, period.

I open the door slowly and shut it with equal care, not wanting even the smallest sound of wood scraping carpet to give me away. Once I'm out of Sora's room, I rush carefully past Mr. Hart's. I know he keeps odd hours, can't risk the chance of him opening the door to find me trying to sneak past him.

Once I reach the stair landing I figure I'm as close to being in the clear as I can get, but… not quite. I hear voices, hushed, nearly muted, but just can't quite place the source. Against my better judgement I continue on, catching the blue, flickering light illuminating the ground floor of the house. I let go of a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. It's the TV. I guess one of Sora's friends couldn’t sleep either… not good for me. Still, in my desperation, I think maybe I can still chance it.

Four steps away from the door, I trip over the leg of some chair-- or maybe the coat hanger, or maybe even my own feet. Anyway, I'm on the ground, having knocked down something heavy. I banged my arm and chin on the way down, too, and it stings like a bitch. So much for being quiet.

God, please don't let anyone wake up. Please don't let anyone get up and start asking questions.

Not a sound. I slowly get up, and...

Fuck. Whoever's on the couch just woke up, but how could he not? I just try to inch by as he sits and looks around. He still manages to spot me, groggily drawling, "How many cups of sugar does it take to get to the moon?"

Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep.

"Gosh," he says, but is not really a 'gosh'. It's a tired, accented, almost 'gaaawrsh'. "What was that?" Is that rhetorical?

"Nothing. I..." A thousand lies spin in my head, but I don't think either of us will particularly remember this in the morning, so I just go with the truth. "I tripped."

"Tripped?" he slurs. "Oh, no problem. Happens to me all the time." 

I bite down the smallest smile. The smallest. No more questions come—where I was going, why I'm up. 

Why _am_ I up?

"I'm going back to bed," I tell him, and don't know why. He wishes me sweet dreams. Even after I was so cold to them. I can see why he and Sora were such a good team.

I crawl back into bed, kept awake by Sora's tossing and turning until he settles in. 

I don't have to worry about him. He's home, he has friends to take care of him. When school starts, it's going to take a few days for him to get used to being normal again, and then he's going to make more friends than he knows what to do with.

I'll stick around those first few weeks, just to be sure. Just long enough to see Sora happy before I go, but not long enough for our inevitable slow fade to not kissing, not touching, not speaking. Just a few more weeks, and then I'm gone.

Or else he's going to leave me behind someday.


	13. Life Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora and Riku have a big week ahead of them and handle it, as usual, with varying levels of emotional stability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora's perspective!
> 
> Thanks for waiting. I kept finding new things about this chapter to hate just as I was about to hit 'post', but i think it's all fixed up now.

It's a little after 8 when I wake up, feeling fully recharged and ready to take on the day. I turn over carefully, hoping I don't wake Riku as I readjust, shaking out my numb arm until it gets all tingly. I think I slept on it last night... or maybe Riku did. 

Riku... I don't know what was going on with him yesterday, but whatever it was... I hope it doesn't carry over into today. All I want is for him to come down and meet my friends. I just want them to like each other; they're the most important people in my life. I never wanna feel like I have to choose...I'd never be able to. Not in a million years.

I don't know what made him feel like he wasn't welcome to come down, but it must have been bad. He just doesn't get how much I want him around me all the time. Sometimes I forget that we haven't been together for very long. I'm sure it'll sink in eventually.

I press a small kiss to his shoulder. Nothing happens. 

Well, might as well get a few more minutes' sleep.

Just as I settle in, Riku gives a tiny jerk, a small noise escaping from him that sounds like it wants to be a word. A nightmare? 

To be safe, I give him a little shake. Not hard enough the startle him, but just enough so he might be distracted somewhere in his dreams. I guess it works, because he quiets down a little before stirring on his own. I turn back around, job done, and close my eyes again.

"Hey," Riku whispers. I turn over again.

"Hey. Were you having a nightmare?" I ask. "You were tossing and turning." He shakes his head. 

"I'm fine," he says.

"Yeah?"

He meets my eye and looks away just as quickly. He's gotta know what I'm referring to.

"...Yeah," he mumbles. 

*  
Through the weekend, I savor the end of summer. I savor my friends. I savor doing literally nothing all day and staying up as late as I want.

Donald, Goofy, and I hit the beach—but the actual beach that you're supposed to go to, not the little strip of private property that Riku and I snuck onto that one time. It's all sun and sand for us, all the time.

Our final hours together--for now--pass in a blaze of laughter and inside jokes, stories that we all seem to remember differently, and an almost-fight between me and Donald as we walk around aimlessly, letting waves lap at our feet and occasionally ducking to avoid beach balls and frisbees. 

Sunday evening comes faster than I thought possible, and saying goodbye is one of the hardest things I've ever done. But they start school this week, so there's no chance of getting them to stay any longer.

"Summer vacation is only nine months away," I tell them seriously. "And I'm expecting to see you."

"We'll see you soon," Donald replies, and there's affection buried beneath his obvious discomfort at all the emotion I've been showering them with this weekend.

"Oh, cheer up, Sora!" says Goofy, giving me a pat on the shoulder when he notices my face drop a little. I can't help it. The reality of this keeps hitting me. "It'll be like we never left."

I haven't done this since we were kids, but I hold out my pinkies. 

"Promise?" I ask, voice only wavering a little.

"Promise!" They chorus, linking their pinkies with mine. After we pull apart, I don't know which of us initiates it, but we pull into a tight group hug. Through all this upheaval and uncertainty, _this_ , this right here, is what feels like home. I gotta say, Mom was really smart to bring them with her when the police found Riku and me, because they would be the only two people who could ever bring me back there... And they told me to keep going. Despite everything that could have gone wrong, they trusted me. They knew I could find better.

They believed in me. They've always believed in me.

I feel like an idiot for ever thinking that they might not miss me-- and the worst friend. I wonder how many days they missed me, how many nights they worried if I was going to survive.

Words spill out of me before I can think better of it.

"Listen--I'm so sorry for not telling you I was leaving. It was totally spur-of-the-moment. I wasn't even thinking." I start to take a step back but they pull me back in to our huddle. Good. I wasn't really done, but thought maybe they might be. 

"It's okay," Goofy says, patting my back again.

"No. I wish I'd confided in you more. You guys were the only good things in my life after Dad left. I just really want you to know that."

"We know," Donald says.

They know. Of course they do. They're my best friends and nothing will ever change that.

*  
I'm kind of down for the next few days. I feel lonely, even though Dad's making an extra effort to hang out with me when he's not at work. Riku's still being cagey around me, and anyway, his company isn't really what I want right now. I miss my best friends. I miss hanging around town with them and talking to them. I miss just sitting next to them and not doing or saying anything.

Also, I'm pretty sure Riku's mad at me. At dinner, I ask him to pass the butter for our mashed potatoes and I swear he chucks it at me. But maybe it's just my imagination.

"Hey Riku--pass the--?" Whoa! Cue salt shaker flying at me like a missile.

Okay, it's definitely not my imagination. Riku is totally pissed off at me and I have no clue what I did.

I think I'm too confused to be properly mad, just scanning through everything I've done these past few days that he could possibly be holding over me, and coming up totally blank. We've barely even spoken.

I think I'm just gonna sit this one out and let Riku do whatever he needs to do until he feels like acting sane again.

*  
Nope. Nope. Nope.

By nightfall, one thing is clear: this isn't going away. Something's seriously up with Riku, and whether or not it really has anything to do with me, I'm at the center of it.

I end up crashing on the couch, because the idea of going back up and getting into a big fight with my boyfriend is super unappealing right now and I know that's the only thing I'll have to look forward to if I try to go upstairs tonight. _Maybe_ we can both just sleep on it.

*

I don't know what time it is when I wake up in the morning, but judging by the dim light and chill in the air, I'd say it's somewhere around seven. A small voice nags me, telling me to get up, since I'll need to get used to being awake early for school in just a few days. But... more sleep is definitely appealing...

"Sora!" I'm jolted by Dad's voice just as I was getting ready to settle back down, heart pounding in my chest and feeling a little stupid for it. "You're up early."

I rub my eyes, stretching as I pull myself up off my side. "...just fell asleep on the couch last night..."

Dad shakes his head, smiling and reaching over the back of the couch to ruffle my hair. I bat him away, laughing as best as I can when I can barely keep my eyes open. 

"You should go up to bed, kiddo."

Not a bad idea. I drag my sorry butt upstairs as Dad gets some coffee brewing in the kitchen, the warm, toasty smell following me up into my bedroom. I stretch out my legs again, kicking out my feet before taking my first step in. The sight of Riku is what greets me. He's reading as always, legs tucked in, dressed in jeans and a tee on the made-up bed. It stops me; for a moment, all I can really do is watch him, bathed in sunlight and looking natural, effortless. My next step in is what finally alerts Riku to my presence, his head snapping up as he slams his book shut.

"Oh," he says when he sees me, in a way that says he's not happy.

...That's right, he's mad at me for some reason.

"Morning," I say, and to my own surprise it lacks even an ounce of warmth. I don't really want to give him anything to work with, so I guess it's all the same to me. "Shower."

Riku lets out a heavy sigh, turning away from me and opening his book back up. Okay, then...

Dismay sits in the pit of my stomach as I hop into the shower and mechanically start scrubbing down. This isn't going away... we'll need to talk about it. Ugh, that's not going to be fun. The one thing I know for sure is that I'm not gonna tackle this one with an empty stomach. 

I shut off the water, toweling off, only to realize that I didn't think to take in any new clothes with me. I take a deep breath, hand on the door knob and twisting slowly. Gonna be ready for whatever Riku decides to throw at me, whether it's a snippy comment or another long-suffering sigh, and... he's not here. Eyebrows raised, I turn my head this way and that, as if I'll find him hiding in a hidden corner or something. 

Well, okay.

*

For a good part of the morning, Riku and I keep just barely missing each other. Riku emerges from wherever he likes to hide in order to make himself some lunch in the kitchen just as I'm finishing up and on my way upstairs anyway. For hours it's almost like a dance, the way we move from room to room just to avoid each other. I'm not even mad, just confused and frustrated, and when even that gets tiring... I'm just sad.

*

At some point while Riku's downstairs, I take the opportunity to come back up for a nap in my own bed. Barely two steps in and I step on something soft... one of my T-shirts. Weird... I don't remember leaving this here. I pick it up off the floor and prepare to toss it aside, and it's when I look back up that I realize my shirt isn't the only thing that somehow made it onto the carpet. All of my things—shirts, jackets, pants and shorts--are clumsily piled in a mountain over by the door to the balcony.

I frown, puffing out my cheeks as I let out a long breath. What gives?

"Riku?" I call once I've doubled back, over the stair railing so my voice carries across the whole first floor. "Why'd you move all my stuff?"

"I thought you were moving downstairs, since that's where you've been sleeping and all," Riku returns, and even though I can hear him fine, I can't see him so it's hard to gauge if _maybe_ he's messing around.

Well. He probably is. Just... not in the way I'd like.

"What, so you don't want to share a room with me now?" The dead silence the question earns me is all I need. I march back into the bedroom, yanking open the first dresser drawer I can get my hands on and scoop up a pile of his own shirts, each neatly folded and stacked. I don't even bother with the one that falls from my arms on my way out of the room, figuring fair's fair.

I head out over to the balcony overlooking the living room and unlink my hands, letting the pile freefall twelve feet, each shirt hitting the floor, the couch, the table, at a slightly different time as they scatter around the room. It's satisfying in the dumbest way. Revenge is great.

Just to make myself totally clear, I call back down again. "If you want to move out, go ahead, but I'm not giving up my room."

Too stubborn to really confront him, I turn and hole back up in my bedroom for a while, just waiting for the fallout.

Yeah, I know I'm making things worse, but I'm not just going to sit around while Riku breaks down and makes it my problem. This is the second time in only a few weeks that he's tried to pick a fight with me, and I don't want _this_ to be the foundation of our relationship: Riku getting mad and then waiting for me to ask him what's wrong. I got that enough at home with my mom, and I'm not letting my boyfriend pull the same stuff on me. If he has a problem, he needs to talk to me.

I don’t care if it just drags things out.

 _He_ needs to talk to _me_. 

*

The next time I see Riku, he's in our room sliding on a pair of shoes and tucking our spare key into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"None of your business," is his short response. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, well. Take your time."

I'm not sure if he hears me; he's out the door pretty quickly. I hear the front door shut firmly, thankful, at least, that he doesn't slam it. Maybe a walk will clear his head.  
*

Dad comes back before Riku does, and that doesn't sit well with me. It's been more than three hours without a single sign of him, and all I can think is that, if he got himself into trouble and the last thing I ever did was toss his clothes out... If he got himself lost or something stupid... we don't have a way to reach him and he'd never ask for help...

"Ready for dinner?" Dad asks as he throws his jacket onto the back of the couch and kicks off his shoes.

"Yeah..." I respond a little distantly, wondering if Riku is gonna come back tonight. I don't really know how to tell Dad that he ran off _hours_ ago.

"Want to let Riku know that he should wash up in about a half hour?"

"…Um, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Riku's not home."

Dad stops there, shooting me a quizzical look. "What do you mean he's not home?"

"I mean, he left to go for a walk and he hasn't come back yet." The look only deepens, his brows furrowing.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No."

"Did he say when he'd be back?"

"...No."

"How long's he been gone for?"

I shrink down. "...a couple hours..."

Dad sighs, eyes darting to the door like he can will Riku to come back in. He's deep in thought for a couple seconds.

"If he's not back by the time we finish eating, I'll go looking for him," he decides finally. "Come on, I bet you're starved. I'll pack up some leftovers so Riku can eat when he's ready."

"Okay," I say, still feeling like this shouldn't be happening, like I should have stopped it. 

Dad and I wash up in uneasy silence, both of us just quiet unless we're asking for an ingredient or the next step of the recipe. I'm pretty sure we're both thinking about Riku. Fearing the worst.

It ends up being moot, of course. Riku bursts in a few minutes after we get started, ready to breeze past us and head up the stairs until Dad pulls him aside. I keep cooking, but still keep an ear out to see if I can hear what's going on.

I catch Dad say something general to him in an undertone. Something like, "I was wondering where you went." Next it's, "You can't just run off like that. At least leave a note letting us know where you're going and when you'll be back." There's more, but Dad's voice drops even lower and I couldn’t begin to guess what they might be talking about. I do catch Riku's quiet apology, though, and it leaves me wondering when I'm going to get mine.  
   
*  
It continues into the next day, us not speaking. I've been sleeping downstairs, Riku's upstairs...we're hardly even in the same room at the same time. Not talking is the worst. It's not easy, staying mad when the desire to share the stuff in my head with him overrides everything else. But I manage to hold out another day and a half, the day before the day before school starts, while I'm taking some time to start throwing binders and pencils into my brand new backpack.

For now, Riku and I are tentatively co-existing in the bedroom so that's a good sign--he's on his usual side of the bed and I'm at work at the other side of the room. Taking a seat on the bed seems like a risk, but it's one I'm willing to take. I've been doing little chores all morning and really need to get off my poor feet. Riku's looking at me from the corner of his eye; it's hard to miss, the way he stiffens and watches me as I walk over.

"What?" I ask finally, all prepared for some kind of criticism or snotty remark.

"I'm sorry," Riku says quietly, so quietly I almost miss it. I literally stop mid-squat, inches from the bed for a good ten seconds before I actually sit.

"...What?"  
   
"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I… I didn't have a reason to be mad at you. And I shouldn’t have treated you that way."  
   
"No, you shouldn't have," I tell him, and he stiffens. Yeah, bet he wasn't expecting that. I'm not trying to be a jerk or anything, but it's true. I can't pass this one off with some phony 'it's okay.' It's not okay, and he's gotta know that. "Riku… when something's wrong, just talk to me. I'm not kidding." 

He can't quite look at me as he nods, nervously fiddling with his fingers.

"I know," he murmurs.

"Riku… what was that even _about_?" He shrugs helplessly, now pointedly looking away from me.

"I don't know," he says. "I--I just. I don't know. I missed you." Huh? He missed me?

"Wait, you mean… when Donald and Goofy were here?"

"…Yeah."

"But I invited you to hang out with us like a million times and you said no."

"I know."

"And then when I came up at night, you'd _always_ be asleep, even if it was only like eight. So we couldn't even do stuff together after they went to bed."

His voice comes out tiny. "…I know."

Suddenly I hear his voice so clear in my head, that thing he said a couple of weeks ago: even if you said you liked me, I wouldn't believe it.

Then I remember his weird behavior at Tiana's group home, and it all just bashes me in the head. Riku was jealous. He was jealous of Xi, and now he's jealous of Donald and Goofy. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how many times I asked him to join us--he was never going to feel wanted, and I don't think there's anything I could've done to change that.

What an idiot. What a big, stupid idiot.

I take his face in my hands, following as he jolts back so my grip doesn't slip. He needs to see me, he needs to hear me.

"I've been missing you too."

"…yeah?" he asks after a moment, which is the only confirmation I need. I lean in to kiss his forehead, one hand drifting up to stroke his hair.

"Of course!" I tell him. "I haven't been able to talk to you, or touch you, or even just chill in the same room with you for like… four days! I miss you like crazy all the time. All I wanted was to hang out with you. I really wanted you to get to know my friends, and I'm super disappointed that you guys didn't get to talk." I say it like that wasn't Riku's choice; I want him to get where I'm coming from, not guilt or shame him.

…I guess he kind of gets the drift, though, because he shuts his eyes slowly, absorbing it all, and cringing like he's starting to feel a little regret. I kiss his lips, real quick and simple, and let him go. 

"I get that things are weird for you right now," I continue. "But... we made a lot of progress before we found my dad. I thought you were opening up to me. If we can get there again, things are gonna be so much easier and better. Especially now that we're... you know. Together."

"...I know. I'm trying." Now he looks at me, sustaining eye contact for longer than I'm used to. All the while, I just stare back. I'm still a little mad at him, but I empathize with him too, and I just wanna kiss him. It's all a big confused mess in my head still. He must get that from the look on my face or something. "I can try harder." He says it more firmly the second time. "I'll try harder."

"That's all I want," I pitch in quickly. "If I know you're trying, that's enough for me."

He smiles a little weakly, sinking into my touch when I brush his hair from his face. I guess this fight took a lot out of him, too. Finally giving in, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close to me, shuddering when he plants an unexpected kiss on my neck. I rub his bare arms, up and down, warming him. Every so often, scar tissue tickles my palms. This poor guy. He makes his own life so hard… and how much of his negativity is caused by the same people who marked up his body so bad? And how much of it is all Riku?

"I want to make this up to you," he says. I break into a cheesy grin at that. He really doesn't have to, but I would like to get something cleared up, once and for all... and he just gave me the perfect opening.

"Tell me what happened that night." I don't need to elaborate. He knows.

"The night I got hurt."

"The night you hurt yourself," I correct. He scoffs, turning onto his back. It's the first time this whole conversation he's actually physically pulled back from me. Great. He's doing it again. He's never just gonna come out and tell me, is he?

"…I can't," he says.

"Riku…"

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you. I wish I could."

"Why can't you?" I press.

"Because I'm still trying to make sense of it."

I frown, trying to figure out what _that's_ supposed to mean, watching as Riku's face falls. Oh… right. He probably thinks that's aimed at him.

"Well, when you do…"

"What I can tell you, is that these are self-inflicted." Quickly and smoothly, he points to three small marks on the inside of his left arm, one right after the other. I jump a little, so startled that he's actually still talking to me about this. I try my best to memorize everything, absolutely everything, about this moment.

He signals to two more, my heart dropping all the while. I'm never quite as ready for the truth as I always think I'm gonna be. 

"...I don't know if this makes it better or worse, but the rest are from fights or punishments at home. Some are accidental--scratching at bug bites too much or catching the sharp corner of furniture a little too hard." He points to a dark circle near his wrist. "That's a burn from a cooking incident... my dad was working late one night so I was helping my mom with dinner and brushed a hot pan or something. It was really ugly-looking at the time... when my dad saw it..." He shakes his head. "He seemed worried. It's the only time I can remember him actually worrying about me." He shrugs, continuing like he didn't just drop a massive bombshell.  
"I must have thin skin or something, because I scar really easily. Um, I used to also be really bad about just letting things heal on their own. I think most of these would have healed if I'd just let it be, but I was always scratching and picking. I've grown out of it."

"Why did you hurt yourself?" I ask gently. "And what made you stop?" His eyes flicker up to meet mine for only a moment. He's quiet for a long time, and I'm brought back to an awful night so long ago... sitting in a cold alley, hopped up on nerves, begging Riku to give me _something_ to work with because he was still such a stranger to me.

I continue stroking his hair while he speaks.

"When I ran away, I was a mess. I mean. The biggest mess I've ever been. I felt so much, and I didn't know what to do with myself… I was desperate for some sort of outlet. I was afraid I'd explode if I didn't have one. And I think he saw that in me when he found me, and he's the one who introduced me to the whole thing. I tried a few times but... I just couldn't get any rush from it. It didn't work for me." He shrugs. "It just hurt."

"Wait--" I interject. "Sorry, who?"

He blushes. Just a little.

"…The leader of that gang. The one that hurt you."

I swallow hard.

"…Oh."

Riku's next word is almost a squeak. "…Yeah. We were pretty close for a while. Or. He felt close to me. I was just young and desperate. I didn't know what I was doing."

I pause for a long time, letting it sink in. Sure, I knew Riku had gone with him for a little while, but they were actually close? I wouldn't have guessed that in a million years from the way they acted around each other... I mean, that guy pulled a gun on him... he would have killed Riku without a second thought. And he encouraged Riku to hurt himself when he was so impressionable, but from what Riku's saying, it sounds like he thought he was helping. Or that he was trying to, anyway. It doesn't make any sense. "Yeah," Riku says, sighing, like he just read my thoughts. When I look up, he's rising from his seat on the bed. "Try to figure that one out."

Too many things play in my head at once. I just can't wrap my head around the idea of them ever being close. I don't think I can figure it out. I don't think Riku can, either.

"No wonder you have some trust issues," I say, rubbing the back of my head with my hand. Riku blinks, looking back at me like he can't believe those words came out of my mouth. He shakes his head, almost deflating as he lets out a heavy sigh.

"I missed you," he murmurs again.

"I missed you too," I reply, beaming. "You know, with school starting in two days… we're really gonna need each other. Please let me be here for you."

"I'll try."

"Try hard."

He smiles. Just a little. "I'll try as hard as I can."  
*

I guess we should count ourselves as lucky, since school starts on Wednesday in our district. It buys me an extra few days I didn't realize I had, but at the same time I just want to get this over with already.

On Tuesday, Dad works from home so we can tour the campus together. Even though Dad's from around here, he didn't go here so I think he's almost as anxious as we are to scope everything out. We're meeting with the principal, too, probably to figure out where exactly we're gonna fit in. For obvious reasons, neither Riku or I have any sort of past history of grades or school attendance, and I wonder if that's gonna cause any problems. I wonder how much Dad told the school staff, if anything, when he registered us.

In the car, I watch offices and homes and parks pass, tapping my fingers on the car door until Dad tells me to cut it out. After fifteen minutes we're here, and then I need a few minutes to really take it in. It's a lot bigger than my old school, and all outdoors. That's so cool... it's going to be great being out in the sun between classes. It's weird to think that tomorrow, this place is going to be filled with people. I bet everyone's been enjoying their last few days sleeping in or going to the beach… I wonder how many young people I've seen out at restaurants and the mall are gonna be students here…

"You alright?" I ask Riku, in the short time between Dad getting out of the car and the two of us following him. He gives me a cool look that I think is meant to be comforting but ends up being hard to read.

"Yeah. You don't have to worry about me so much," he says, ducking away from the kiss I try to press against his cheek and hurrying ahead. "Are you?" "Hm?" "Alright?"

"Oh! Yeah. I'm fine."

We smile at each other, walking side-by-side, only a few paces behind Dad. The principal's office isn't too hard to find. He's right at the back of the main office, which is the first building we see when we walk in through the front gate. Just to be polite, we knock, even though we specifically set up this appointment for this date and time. Again I'm wondering what Dad's been telling people, since the first thing the principal asks is how long we've been out of school.

"Only a month," I pitch in quickly. "I missed the very end of May and the beginning of July. Most of my last tests were all done." Now I just hope he doesn't ask about the grades I got on those tests, 'cause that could really change the course of this conversation.

"A little over two years," Riku says next. Honestly, I'm astounded that he didn't lie or skirt the question. I guess he really does care about getting into the right classes. "I've been a straight A student for most of the years I've been in school without even trying." He shrugs. "I'm not worried about catching up."

I wonder if that's true, too. If it is... man, I always knew Riku was smart. I didn't realize he was _smart_ -smart. I was _this_ close to being held back last year, and I think the only thing stopping me from repeating the ninth grade will be convincing the principal that I'm ready. Riku is so out of my league.

"We're absolutely willing to do what it takes to make sure you both get back on track and into the proper classes. My biggest concern is the number of credits you'll need to make up in order to get into college."

"But there's community college for that, right?" I ask. "I mean, there are programs we'd be able to take there that would help make up for it too, aren't there?"

The principal looks impressed. "It would depend on the school, but I don't see why that couldn't be arranged."

Dad glances over at me and squeezes my hand. For the rest of the time he talks to Dad, with an occasional question or comment for one of us. The whole time, Riku's oddly talkative and totally charming. I've never seen him like this. 

No. Wait, I have. Just once, when we were runaways, when I was distracting a guy at a convenience store so Riku could steal food... when Riku came up to get me, he was all-smiles, super upbeat. Just until we were out of sight, then he was mad at me over something I can't remember.

For the first time since our first few weeks together, I find myself wondering who exactly Riku is. I don't have too much time to dwell on it, though, because when the principal addresses us directly again, it's both an encouragement and a dismissal.

"Catching up will be hard, but it can be done. I'm confident that we can work together to ensure that you both graduate on time."

We nod decisively, both up for the challenge. 

I'm going to do better this time. No question about it.

Riku and I get to go a little early as Dad fills out the last of the transfer paperwork. Walking out of the office and into the sun lifts me up; I didn't realize until now how nervous I was in there the whole time. We hang for a while by the door, waiting for Dad to reemerge, comfortably silent. My eyes rake over the spacious quad, surrounded by tall stone buildings, the palm trees scattered along the periphery of the campus, and I think of the high school I would've enrolled in if I had never left. Yeah, this is a little more me.

"I'm sure you both want to take a look around," Dad says; we both jump at the sound of his voice, breaking up the silence of the campus. "I'll go wait in the car--what do you say about meeting me back in about fifteen minutes?" I instantly perk up.

"That sounds great!"

Dad and Riku start off in separate directions, Riku stalking further into the school and Dad heading back out into the parking lot. For the first time since we were runaways, I get this weird, strong feeling of being on the outside looking in. For just a split second, I know there's no way I'll ever be able to fit in. Even if I make friends, the chances that they'll really be able to relate to the stuff I've seen and been through is so low...

Well, I guess it's good I have Riku, then.

I reach out for his hand, pleasantly surprised when he lets me take it in his. It serves the dual purpose of slowing him down. We're not runaways anymore; we don't have to rush, Riku doesn't have to walk so far ahead of me. We can just be all side-by-side and equal and neither of us really needs to take the lead. I wonder if either of us can exist that way, or if we're always gonna be competing. I mean, that's really what it was about, wasn't it? We both kinda wanted to be in control. 

I squeeze Riku's hand tighter, which earns me a curious look.

"You okay?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah."  
   
I loosen my grip on his hand until Riku gets the hint and lets go, but it's only so I can try my luck by sliding an arm around his waist. Surprisingly, he goes with it for a while until it's too much, or he gets antsy, and shakes me off. It was kind of hard walking like that anyway, so I guess it's not that big a deal.

"I really gotta do better for myself this year," I say absently to no one, thinking again about my bad math grade last year, my bad English grade, my mediocre science and health grades. I picture showing Dad one of my awful report cards and his disappointment and it makes me a little sick. I have to work harder than I've ever worked in my life, but I'm ready.

Riku hums in quiet agreement. 

"You'll catch up," he says, taking my hand in his again. "I know you will."

*  
The rest of the day is just as busy. We finally make good on our physical therapy referral and set up some sessions for next week, and Riku and I both take a much-needed trip to the dentist. After that it's shopping for the last school supplies we'll be needing: little odds and ends, more pencils, more paper, snacks. Then it's dinner out and a movie at home, all three of us a bit worn out from running around all day.

On the couch, I cuddle up with Riku as much as he'll let me with Dad so close, half-dozing until the credits roll and a loud advert for the next movie this channel will be airing jerks me back into full consciousness. 

Dad grabs the remote from the table, shutting off the TV with the press of a button and filling the room with silence.

"You should probably get to bed pretty soon," he says, glancing over at a clock on the wall. "If classes start at eight, you'll want to catch the seven-fifteen bus. You feel comfortable getting to the bus stop on your own?" Riku and I glance at each other for a moment before directing our attention back to Dad and giving him a nod. He nods in return, slapping his hands on his knees decisively. 

"Great. Now that you've settled in, I just want to start laying down some rules." I shoot Riku an uncertain look, but his eyes are fixed on my dad. "I'll give you a few weeks to get back into the swing of things again, but once you've adjusted to being back in school, I'll expect you both to help out with chores in exchange for allowance. Sound fair?"

"Yeah," I chirp. I'm guessing that's his way of saying that his days of just handing us money are coming to a close, but that's still more than I ever got at home so I'm not about to complain.

Dad smiles, ruffling my hair affectionately. I laugh, blushing a little—really, Dad? In front of my boyfriend?

"When you get home, I want you to finish homework before anything else. No hanging out, no video games, no going out, until your homework is completely finished."

"Okay!" I respond.

"I'm in the process of getting you both cell phones. As long as I know where you're going and you have your phone on you, I'm happy to give you a certain amount of freedom to run around town. Curfew is seven on weekdays, nine on weekends. During the summer we can push these back, but I'd rather not have either of you wandering around after dark—at least, not until you know the city better." 

"No," Riku says. Dad stops.

"Sorry?"

Riku draws himself up, sitting straight as he stares Dad in the face, challenging him. Riku, come on... what are you doing...

"I'll keep my grades up and go to physical therapy or do chores or whatever else you want. But I want the freedom to come and go. That's all I ask." To my surprise, Dad barely bats an eye, nodding his approval.

"Just use common sense and keep your phone on you. If you're going to be home after seven, let me know. Be smart about it, and be in touch. Deal?" Riku leans back into the couch, arms crossed as he seems to mull it over.

"Okay," he says. "Can I go now?"

If Dad's taken aback at all, he doesn't let on.

"Of course. Go get some sleep."

I wait until Riku's safely upstairs before speaking up.

"...I can't believe you let him get away with that."

"It can't be easy to acclimate to a set schedule after so many years on his own. I'm willing to give him a little more leeway for a while, and then I'll probably start reigning him in. Sound fair?"

"Of course!" I say quickly. "I was just curious. I definitely didn't mean anything by it." Dad smiles and stands, so I take the chance to excuse myself, too.

I kind of don't know what to expect when I go upstairs, given the weird way Riku's been acting the past few days (or weeks, or months), but it's a relief when he smiles at me as he emerges from the bathroom, hair dropping flecks of water onto the towel draped over his shoulders. It means everything's good.

"Early day tomorrow," I say to no one as I strip down, kicking off my shorts and tugging on a pair of warm pajama pants. I already know I'm going to end up overheating and kicking off my covers through the night, but I guess that just means more for Riku.

"Shouldn't be hard for you," Riku says, pulling the towel away and wrapping the ends of his hair. I watch as he squeezes and rolls the towel in his hands, as he wanders back into the bathroom to toss it onto the laundry pile. "You were getting up at five every day when we were on the streets. This is nothing." I rub the back of my head sheepishly. Yeah, I was up, but not easily.

"Sure, as long as you're around to get me up." He shoots me an odd, troubled sort of look. I wonder if he thought I meant something weird by that. "Coming to bed?"

"...Yeah."

I wait for him to slide in next to me, feeling like it's been forever since we've settled in at the same time, or even gone to bed together. I miss the way the mattress shifts as he turns onto his side, adjusting until he's comfortable, the way his eyes slide shut moments before I turn out the light.

I press a kiss to his nose, even missing the disgusted little noise he makes.

*  
Our new alarm clock screeches us awake at 6:30. I'm not anywhere approaching alert, just confused and not totally sure where I am for a second or two. With a loud, sleepy intake of breath Riku slaps the alarm, effectively silencing it. 

School.

The word hits me in the head like a mallet, sending a shock of nerves through me. I think the nervous excitement is the only thing that drags me out of bed this morning, as much as I really don't want to get up.

Next to me, Riku's dragging himself up too, looking a little like an exhausted bird's nest. He must've had a pretty restless night to muss up his hair so much. It's all I can do not to reach out and touch him, but I don't know if this is the right time. 

I don't wish him a good morning as I start getting ready, pulling on fresh clothes and double-checking my backpack for books and supplies. It's nothing personal, but my mouth is so dry that I don't think I could choke out a single word.  

It's fine. It's going to be fine. 

Step by step I make it through brushing my teeth and hair, washing my face, stretching out until all my stiff bits pop back into place. I stall in front of the door until Riku's ready, looking a little tired but still really nice in jeans and a T-shirt he quickly covers with a dark blue hoodie. 

"Ready to go?" I ask, and my voice only cracks a little bit. With a solemn nod, Riku leads us downstairs.  
   
"Eat breakfast," Is the first thing Dad says when we see him, lounging at the dining room table with a mug of coffee in his hand.

We both settle with toast and jam, eating silently, all tense like it's our last meal. Riku makes himself a cup of tea while I steal the rest of Dad's coffee. It kills the last fifteen minutes we have before we have no choice but to head over to the bus stop. Kinda weird heading out the door while Dad's still sitting and enjoying the newspaper, but we have a bus to catch. 

When we make our way to the bus stop down the street, we're not the first ones there. There are five or six other kids about our age loitering around, some talking to each other, others alone. I'm so, so glad I know somebody. It feels so much less awkward having someone to talk to.

"Hey, Riku," I say. He doesn't respond, foggy eyes watching cars pass by. From an outsider's perspective, he looks totally casual, his backpack slung over one shoulder, hands in his pockets... but he's obviously going through stuff, so I think I'll just let him be.

So much for having someone to talk to, though.

I think the whole small group collectively tenses when we first spot the bus making its way down the street. Conversations hush for a moment as it bumps and rolls at its own pace, competing with the traffic that's just now beginning to build up. I hear a girl gasp behind me and I instinctively draw back when a car suddenly rushes ahead, completely cutting off the bus driver. The bus pulls over and the car speeds off like that wasn't a totally dangerous thing to do. The girl and I exchange an incredulous look as we queue up.

When the doors open Riku and I swipe our bus passes--courtesy of Dad, of course-- and find empty seats near the back. It's just empty enough at this hour for me to feel comfortable resting on Riku's shoulder, though I watch with an eagle eye every time we come to a stop and more passengers file on, waiting for someone to glance over, but everyone's glued to a book or window or newspaper.

I don't know when I doze off, but I must at some point because one minute I'm shutting my eyes for a second, and another Riku's nudging me to get moving. Groggy, I push myself onto my feet and shamble my way to the front of the bus, trying not to shove my way past all the people still not moving.

"Sora, you forgot something," Riku calls out from a few paces behind me, and for some reason the first thing I do is glance down, like I need to make sure I'm wearing pants. That's all the time Riku needs to catch up, sliding my backpack straps over my arms and securing it to me. Oops--I guess forgetting _that_ would be a pretty counterproductive start to my first day.  
   
I wake up more and more as we file closer to the front, and by the time Riku and I hop out, I'm wired on pure adrenaline. 

I almost falter as Riku and I approach the sign proudly proclaiming: 

_Okeanos High School  
Home of the Titans_

The campus looks so much _bigger_ when it's full of kids, wandering on their own or congregating in groups, teachers rushing to get from the office to their classrooms or vice versa, school security and janitors milling around.

Suddenly these past few months feel like a dream I've just woken from.

Nothing has ever felt more real than _this._

I give Riku's hand a quick squeeze as we walk through the gates, feeling infinite relief when he squeezes back before we let go.

We pick up our schedules and locker assignments from a table set up in the quad manned by a few slightly harried-looking adults and set off. 

"Hey, Riku..." I say to an empty space. Uh, this isn't good. "Riku?" I spin on my heels, heart rate picking up… how am I gonna find him in this crowd?! Where did he run off to? What if he just decided to ditch? 

I don't know what it says about me that I freeze, glued to my spot just like I can remember Mom telling me to do when I was little if I ever got separated from her. As promised, Riku seems to appear out of nowhere, walking to my side from somewhere behind me, and I swear that as long as I live I'll never know exactly where he went for those terrifying thirty seconds.

"Where are you off to?" he asks, totally oblivious to my near-panic attack.  
"Um--locker," I stammer, heading off to the first row I see, my eyes glued on Riku until I feel a little more like he won't just up and disappear on me. "I have 132B. What about you?"

"146A." I perk up a little at that.

"So we might be close to each other!"

"Maybe," he says, giving my hand one more quick little squeeze.

We reach his first. I dawdle while Riku works the lock, hitting each number in the combination carefully and precisely and still looking a little surprised when it opens right away. He puts away a few books and a pack of lined paper for safekeeping, and we're off again after Riku carefully eases it shut.

I'm next, and my heart drops when I realize that I'm a lot farther from him than I thought I'd be, with the way the lockers are split into groups. I'm all the way down a long hall and behind a corner, a good three-minute walk away. I guess it isn't that big a deal, but it's really starting to hit me how much I've come to rely on Riku being next to me all the time. This really is the end of an era in a way… we're gonna separate from each other. We might have our own different groups of friends… there might be days where we don't hang out during break or wait for the other to finish up at their locker before taking off. I really hope Riku doesn't find someone he'd rather date…

My mind spins as I work my own locker, putting away all the stuff I won't be needing for my first class, and I picture some tall handsome guy who's smarter than me who Riku can't get enough of.

I want to hold his hand again, but the halls are only getting fuller.

"…I guess this is where we separate," Riku says as I slam my locker shut, leaning all casually against 133B. I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. "We probably won't have any classes together…"

"Right," I choke out. "Since we're not in the same grade and all…"

"I have Literature in Building A," Riku says softly, like we're sharing a secret. "Then Calculus in B and Economics in C." I shake my head miserably.

"Biology in B, Computer Science in C, then World History in D," I tell him.

"…I guess I'll see you at lunch then."

"Yeah. Lunch."

We both almost go in for a kiss. But I don't know if we can do that here, so we just awkwardly pull back and head off into opposite directions.

Well, here I am. All on my own. 

Every day this will get easier.

I can do this.

"Watch it!" Some kid, obviously a Senior, snaps at me when I brush him by mistake, neither of us paying close enough attention as we round the same corner from opposite ends.

"Sorry!"

I hope that's not a bad omen.

At least I make it to class in one piece--right before the bell rings, too. I take a seat off to the side, near a window, in the fourth of six long rows. My classmates are scattered about, but if the entire class fills up that means about thirty kids will be crammed in here. As it is, we're probably three-fourths full, meaning that I'm not the only one with an empty chair on each side… but only barely. All at once I'm dreading having to talk my new peers… and I can't wait to meet them. I look around as subtly as I can, taking them all in. Some are talking to each other, already familiar, and others are just quiet as they stare ahead like me. 

The seat to my right is filled by a blonde guy who doesn't even look at me, offering the guy in front of him a loud greeting as the recognition sets in. I feel like the next person who comes in, a redheaded girl, takes mercy on me, because she sits to my left instead of taking one of the empty seats in the back. She scans the room like I do before taking her purple pencil case from her backpack. Guess that's my cue to do the same, and…

No pencil case.

I bite back a groan. Man, I could just kick myself. Ugh, I took it out of my backpack last night in a panic because I couldn't find my ruler, which I won't even be needing till I have math tomorrow. I could have sworn I put it back, but obviously I didn't. I can't believe neither Riku or I caught that this morning. 

The guy to my side is a lost cause, still caught up in rambunctious conversation, so I turn to the girl.

"Hey, um--It looks like I forgot my pencil case at home. Do you have an extra pen?" Honestly, I kind of expect her to tell me to buzz off, but she just smiles as she unzips her pack.

"I do!" She grabs a handful. "Blue or black?"

…Huh. Didn't expect that.

"Uh, whatever you're willing to part with. But I promise I'll give it back!"

"Don't worry, I have a whole pack. Here, take a few." I grin as she passes over two of each color--blue, black, red, green--telling me again she doesn't need them back.

"Thanks so much," I tell her, oozing gratitude. "I'm Sora."

"Kairi," she says, and the second she looks at me full on I feel like we're really gonna click. She has the nicest face I've ever seen. And pretty, too, not that it matters.

Our conversation is cut short as the late bell rings, prompting the morning announcements to ring over the loudspeakers. It's all the usual stuff, and for once the familiarity is a relief. This is the world I belong in… I'm not a runaway anymore. This is my new life. And I can do it.  
*

When the bell rings, my mind is set on finding Riku. But he isn't at his locker and it's only a ten minute passing period, so I have to give up my search and get a move on. It's kind of a blow but... just one more class and I get to see him. After that, we're one last class and a bus ride away from getting to touch. I already can't wait to hug him so hard...

I wonder how Riku's doing... I hope he's okay.  
   
 *  
Computer science goes pretty smoothly, and we even finish up about ten minutes early so the teacher lets us just talk and hang out until lunch. It's sort of intimidating to see how many people in my class already know each other, but I try really hard to get talking to people anyway. And that's when the weirdest thing happens: I make a joke, and someone laughs. And they don't roll their eyes or turn away or call me names. The guys who sit next to me don't back away like I have a disease when I try to join their conversation. Actually, they kind of seem to like me.

*

When lunch rolls around, my mission to find Riku resumes.

Well, that's not totally true. I get food first, since I know all too well that the good stuff will be gone if I lollygag for even a second. The line's already fifty kids deep by the time I reach the cafeteria, and I'm not even coming from one of the farther buildings. I'm so glad I decided against going to my locker first.

I'm gladder for the money in my pocket and a guaranteed hot lunch, that I don't have to rely on my mom remembering to apply for the credits they gave the poor kids at my old school every semester. Glad I won't have to mooch off Donald and Goofy if her alcoholic's memory fails. Man, how many full meals did I basically steal from them over the years? I owe them so much… I really hope they're okay, too…

"Line's moving," the guy behind me says, not rudely. I shoot him a sheepish grin and move up, gazing longingly at the front of the line. Looks like the food line leads into a room separate from the eating area, which means no more praying that some jerk classmate won't trip me or shove past me right when I get my food, that I won't drop it in front of _everyone_. So there's another relief. And then there's the fact that it looks like everyone's spread around outside, and just from looking I can't tell who's supposed to be "cool" or not. My days of navigating through the school cliques, groups at their own designated tables, and reflecting on what a loser I am, just might be coming to a close.  
All that and I have a boyfriend to meet up with, which would lift my spirits any day. Speaking of which, where is he? I lean at the waist, craning my neck, trying to see if he might be in front of me or behind me somewhere, but no dice. I do realize that Kairi's been right in front of me this whole time, though, and that's almost as good.

"Hey!" I call, and it must take her a minute to realize someone's talking to her because she doesn't turn around right away.

"Hi, Sora!" she responds, smiling. "How was your last class?"

"Yeah, it was fine! I think it's gonna get pretty hard once we get started, but the teacher seems super nice."

"What class?" she asks politely.

"Computer science?" I ask. I don't know why I ask it.

"Nice," she says, smiling again. She's about to turn around, but for some reason I don't want to let her go just yet.

"What classes do you have today?" A beat; she turns her head to check the line just as it begins moving again and we shuffle forward a foot or two.

"I just came from Art, then I have Economics next." _That_ gets my attention. I happen to know someone else who has Economics after lunch…

"Cool! My boyf--" I stop midway, earning an odd kind of look from Kairi, and I hope I didn't just out myself to the first person I've actually held some sort of a conversation with all year. "My friend has Economics next too."

I wonder if Riku and Kairi will have a class together. I could almost be a little jealous of her for that. 

"Nice," she repeats, and we fall into that awkward silence of two strangers who don't know if they're still having a conversation or not. "…This school is so big," Kairi offers finally. "I keep thinking I'll get lost."

"You new here?" She nods, and I grin.

"I'm glad it's not just me. This is my first year here, too. Where are you from?" The line moves again, and mercifully we finally make it into the kitchen. I snag a slice of pizza, a bowl of salad, and a bag of chips, while Kairi grabs the last pre-packaged sushi roll.

"Oh, I'm actually from here, I was just--ah!" She shoots me a apologetic look as she interrupts her own trail of thought. "I'm stealing that open register. Hopefully I'll see you around, Sora! I'm glad to have a friend already."

"Yeah!" I say, almost breathless. She just called me her friend. I made a friend on my first day! I can't wait to tell Riku. I can't wait to introduce her to Riku.

I take an apple from the register as I pay, for no other reason than because I can, brimming with pride when I can afford it no sweat. The kitchen spills out into the cafeteria, but I beeline to the exit, wandering out in the hot late-summer sun as I look for a cool, shady spot to settle down in. Most are taken, of course, but I do find a tree in a field close to where my locker is, so all I gotta do is hope that Riku has the same thought process as I do.

After taking my first bite of pizza I lean back, resting my eyes and enjoying the breeze that kicks up. Man, I could really go for a nap… but I should probably finish my lunch instead. I won't be super happy if I end up having to throw this all out 'cause I slept my only lunch break away. Even with that thought in my head, I don't open my eyes until I hear the crunching of grass by my side. Great, I hope I didn't take someone's spot… wouldn't it be funny if it's the same guy I almost bumped into this morning?

I blink once, eyes adjusting to the sun, and my heart skips a beat. Even better.

"Isn't it a little early to be sleeping already?" Riku asks, smirk and raised eyebrow firmly in place, and I've never wanted to kiss him so badly in my whole life. Except I'm pretty sure I think that every time I see him.

"Riku!" I gasp, grinning as he takes a seat next to me. "I'm really glad you found me!" He smiles at that, but he's looking down at his food as if that's where his focus really is. I'm not fooled; I know it's on me.

He takes a big bite of his sandwich, swallowing before he asks, "How was class?"

"It was good! But I want to know about yours! How are your teachers? Have you made any friends?"

The answer to that last one presents itself.

"Riku!" calls a very petite girl in a yellow dress, short brown hair bouncing as she rushes over. On her arm is Kairi, their elbows linked, and Kairi reminds me of a little bit like a prom date who maybe didn't realize what she got herself into. She lets go of Kairi only moments before she drops onto her knees on the grass, linking her ankles as she sits. "I was calling for you, but you didn't hear me!"

Riku shrugs, offering something that's almost a smile. "Sorry." She gives him a smile and a shove.

"That's okay, silly! My friends usually sit over here, so it works out really well!"

"…Should we move?" I ask. She waves her hands out in front of her, shaking her head.

"No, you're fine! But we should have more people coming, so just be ready to fight if they want to protect their turf." 

I don't laugh until she does. Okay, hopefully that means she's kidding.

Kairi follows with a little less intensity, patting down her skirt in the back as she sits. All I can think in the moment is that I'm really glad I don't have to worry about flashing people if I sit down too fast.

"I'm Selphie by the way!" 

"Sora. It's nice meeting you!" I try not to feel a little burned that Riku didn't introduce me, but then… hearing him introduce me as his friend would be really hard. So maybe I'm glad he didn't.

"Kairi," Kairi says politely, looking over at Riku. He gives a short nod.

"Riku."

"Kairi's new!" Selphie volunteers, much to Kairi's chagrin if the look on her face is any indicator. "This is her first year!"

"I was homeschooled for a few years," she clarifies. "But now I'm back." 

"I was homeschooled for a few years as a kid, too," Riku says, almost knocking me over. What is it with him just telling people stuff all the sudden? I keep half an ear on them as Selphie begins talking to me again, asking about classes and teachers before launching into a story about one of her friends. I'm content just to sit back and listen, laughing along at all the right parts and enjoying the fresh air and company. 

I catch Riku stand from the corner of my eye, collecting his trash and mine before sauntering off to a trash bin. Around that time Selphie excuses herself to head off to her locker before the warning bell rings. There's definitely an "end of lunch" feeling in the air, even if no one else seems to be vacating their spots just yet.

"Sora?" Kairi asks, a little quietly, like she's gonna tell me a secret or something. 

"Yeah?"

"Sorry if I have this wrong, but… you and Riku are a couple, right?" 

I'm glad I finished all my food, or else I would have dropped it. I can feel my face going red as my mind scrambles to come up with some way to diffuse this. I'm not ashamed of Riku--could never be, not in a million years--but… this could go so, so wrong for both of us. But I can't lie to her face. I need to be brave. I can be brave.

"Yeah, we are. We got together earlier this month."

"Okay," she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. "I was just wondering."

After the relief washes over me, I'm hit with another small wave of anxiety.

"…What gave it away?" I ask a little nervously. But I hope I don't sound nervous.

She shrugs. "I don't know. Something about the way you look together." Kindly, she adds with a smile, "It's nice."

Nice, she says.

Yeah, it is.

*

The three of us pack up slowly when the bell rings. While Kairi's sliding on her backpack, I take the change to lean over to Riku and give him a quiet, "I miss you."

"Miss you too," he responds. "Only two hours to go." I nod.

"I'll see you after class, then. Meet me at my locker?"

"Yeah." 

He stalks off to a building on the opposite side of campus, while Kairi and I beeline to one of the nearer buildings. I expect her to veer off in another direction at some point, but we just keep walking side-by-side, winding through the crowd and sending each other looks when someone particularly rowdy almost slams into us.

"What do you have next again?" I ask. "Economics, right?"

She shakes her head." I just checked my schedule again... I actually have that class tomorrow. World History's next for me—how about you?"

I try to contain my excitement.

"Me too!"

In the classroom, we snag the last pair of empty seats, talking about nothing until the lesson starts. The lesson passes in a blur of passing notes and stifling giggles with my first new friend since I was a kid; my first friend in this entire city.

*  
Any energy I had through the day is totally sapped out of me by the time the last bell rings. Riku and I meet up as promised and trudge over to the bus in silence, loading on and staring off in different directions once we're seated. It's fine. We have plenty of time to talk tonight. Right now... we're both pooped, and probably thinking about homework, and probably dying to be home right about now. But the bus ride is smooth if not a little long, and we're still next to each other, and it's all good.

Kinda weird to think after so long, but yeah. It's all good.


	14. The End of Life as it is Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku's first day at school goes a little differently than anticipated.

I wake up in the morning at five AM exactly, fighting wave after wave of nausea after a restless, sleepless, dreamless night. Even an hour later, my head is pounding, my mouth is dry. And I swear I can feel every last hair on my body standing on end. The same thoughts blare in my head on endless repeat. My life is over. Full circle. My life is over. Full circle.  
   
I'm out of limbo, the wait is done, and now I get to be _normal_ again. After three years, I'm going back to school. I'm going back to wake up early and do what I'm told all day, I'm back to _let the adults do the thinking for you_ , back to being handled every second of every day. Back to everything I almost died to escape. No matter how many times I think about it, it doesn't seem real. I don't feel real.

I wonder if I can even do this. I wonder if I should.

I wonder if I shouldn't.

Whenever the reality of it hits me, it sends another shock of weakness through my body. But no, I am not going to throw up. I'm not going to throw up again this morning. I can't go back to that, to the nerves and sickness and anxiety and fear.

I'm never going back.  
\

The alarm _would_ go off moments after I slip back into sleep. 

The only thing that keeps me inches from a full fight-or-flight-induced panic attack is this foggy feeling in my head. I still don't really feel real, still feel like I'm watching from somewhere distant. Maybe that's to be expected. After all, it's always calm in the eye of a hurricane.

And having Sora with me helps. I feel like I can only be still when he's so energized, because someone needs to be around to make sure he's taken care of, and I've always taken it upon myself to be that person.

I know he doesn't need me anymore—he says otherwise, but now I think he must not know, he doesn't know how little he needs me--but maybe I can still help a little. Maybe I comfort him the way he comforts me just by staying close.

\  
Somehow Sora sleeps through the ride there. I'll never know how he can get any peace on this noisy old bus, which lurches and jerks with every crack, crease, or bump on the road as it stops and starts with the early morning traffic.

I hope I don't throw up. 

I slowly put my head in my hands, trying to calm my stomach, trying to get my headache to go away, trying not to wake Sora. I don't do well in confined spaces.

Once we reach campus, I find that I'm not doing much better in the open air. Who knew such a huge amount of space could seem so tiny when packed with teenagers. I'm just lucky that Sora doesn't see me falter as we pass through the gate, and I try not to remind myself that the number of students here is twice what it would have been in Darry. 

It means I have anonymity, I tell myself as I follow Sora across the center quad and to a small grouping of tables stacked high with class schedules. I try not to feel claustrophobic in line, surrounded on all sides by too many people. It feels like we inch forward, little by little, leaving me crazy wondering how such a simple thing can take so much time. 

I stare in envy at the L-Z surname line, which is only four people long, and wish for not the first time that my last name started with any other letter than I. This stupid name that associated me forever with Nathan and his family, that landed in me in the center of almost every class and next to my most hated peer in almost all the rest. 

I plummet face-first into some old fantasy, where my mom drops Darry, drops Nathan, where she goes _anywhere_ and takes me with her to a new place and her old name. 

...weird. I'd forgotten all about that until now, and it doesn't really matter, anyway. She was never going to leave, not even for me, so I had to be the one to go. And I'm better for it. Stronger and smarter and I think still freer than I was before I left. I don't need to go back to my old wants. I'm not that person anymore.

"Sora Hart!" Sora chirps at the woman at the table as we reach the front, and I wonder if any of his cheer is masking nervousness or if he's really as cool as he lets on. Flipping through pages, the woman locates Hart, Sora, and passes him a crisp new schedule, text smeared from when I'm sure the ink was still drying until moments ago.

"Imakura," I state softly. I'll never stop feeling like I need to hide myself, like saying my name out loud might stir some sort of recognition in someone who knows where I'm from and where I should be. But nothing happens, of course, except that the woman seems to have trouble finding me until I begin to slowly spell my name for her.

"Sorry about that," she says when she finally happens upon my schedule, and I just shake my head. 

One glance sends a blow of familiarity over me, but I guess school schedules look the same everywhere. This isn't a sign. Or at least, I won't let it be.

\

Sora and I separate not a moment too soon. 

It's not that I wanted to get away from him, it's just that I need a second to myself before class starts, to gather my wits, to decompress, to not have to _perform_. Sora will be fine. He'll be able to find his class without my help, and he's going to walk into a room of twenty new friends the second he steps through the door. He's going to be okay. He's going to be okay.  
He doesn't need me, and it's going to be okay.

\  
I'm not ignored, exactly, as I cut through the center of the campus, but no one bothers to draw any attention to me, either. It's a novelty, not being stared at or pointedly shunned, and I find myself wondering if this is what existing is actually supposed to be like.

Maybe this will be easier than I thought. 

I get to class early and snag a seat in the back. It hits me again that this is all real but at least there's no one here, although some teachers and administrators pop in and out every once in a while. Every time I hear that door open I absently wonder which one of them teaches in this room. And I still find myself looking for familiar faces. Ridiculous. 

"You're early," a female voice says finally. I jump--I swear to God-- almost out of my fucking shoes. "Looks like you beat me here!"

"Yeah," I reply. It'll take me a while to come up with actual responses again. That's okay.

She takes a seat at her desk in the front left corner of the room then busies herself on an ancient-looking computer, staring intently at the screen as she continues speaking to me.

"You're here for literature, then?"

I think I want to say: no, I enjoy sneaking into schools and sitting my ass down in random classrooms.

I almost say: Yes I am, ma'am, but people don't speak that way here.

I say: "Yeah. I'm guessing this is the right room, then."

"Yup. Name?"

"Imakura... Riku."

I hear more typing, and a click.

"There. Okay, one less name to call this morning."

What I was about to say next I'm afraid will end up condescending, so I bite my tongue. I wish I knew how to talk to people. But I never got the chance to learn, and it's too late now.

*  
I read until the bell rings. Mercifully, no one tries to talk to me, which is just as well. Even if I could make friends, I'm not interested. It's not like I'm going to hang around for very long, anyway, so even if I could, and even if I wanted to, it would all be pretty pointless. Honestly, I think this all might be a little pointless.

Maybe if I just get up and pretend I'm going to the bathroom, I can walk away from this campus and never look back.

"I miss summer vacation already!" I barely register the words from the girl who chooses to sit next to me, even though there are still rows without a single person in them. "Hey, what's your name?" I start, realizing all-too-suddenly that she's actually talking to me. Even then, I look around just to be totally sure I'm not mistaken, but I'm the only one near enough to engage.

"...Riku," I murmur. She leans in closer.

"What'd you say?"

Great.

"Sorry," I say, with a little more confidence. "It's Riku."

She smiles at me, green eyes sparkling, and it's all I can do to not turn away. But if I could avoid the reputation of being stuck up this time, that would be okay.

"Selphie! What are you reading?"

"Nothing."

"...Okay. I get it," she says, almost-singsong, so I'm not completely sure if I just blew it or not. I almost want to go back and tell her, but she was just asking, she doesn't care, and she might not want to talk to me anymore anyway. So I say nothing.

I jump when the bell rings, and if anyone notices, no one says anything. A tidal wave of students rush in at once, filling every last empty seat, still hooting and hollering until the teacher stands and tells us--I'm not kidding-- to "simmer", like we're soup or something.

I try to stay focused in this room while she introduces herself, head buzzing so loudly I almost miss her words of instruction as she passes out a worksheet printed on green paper.

"I thought we'd start out with an icebreaker activity. Everyone grab a partner and fill out your quizzes—you have fifteen minutes."

Fuck. Already.

Selphie turns around, grin wide. "Partners?" I'm too confused to be relieved. But still.

"Partners."

As the teacher passes, Selphie takes two copies of the worksheet, examining it for a moment before handing me mine.

"I love the deep and philosophical questions they always ask," she says. "'What's your favorite color?' is a personal favorite." My lips quirk up despite me. Okay... I think I might like her… just a little.

"Or 'what's your favorite animal?'" I reply. "Heartbreaking. A classic."

"'If you were a river, what would you be?'" she continues, now entirely bullshitting, and I'm kind of into it.

"Wet, probably," I respond. She claps a hand over her mouth, giggling and giving me a nudge in the shoulder. One corner of my mouth pulls into a smirk, but that's all I can manage.

"Okay, okay," she says, deep breaths, laughter dissipating. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen." She jots it down. "You?"

"Fourteen," she responds. I glance up at her, doing the math. "I skipped a grade," she explains, breaking my silence. "But it was like first grade so it doesn't really count."

"Okay, the moment you've been waiting for. Favorite color." She giggles again, brushing her hair behind her ear, only for it to come popping back out again.

"Yellow!"

"Mine too," I reply absently.

"Really? That's so funny! What kind of yellow?" I sputter for a second. What the fuck kind of question is that?

"...The yellow kind?" 

"Well, yeah, but there's so much yellow! Are we talking about daffodil? Chartreuse? Mustard?" 

"Yes," I say. She gives me another giggle, and for the first time I wonder if she's laughing at me and not with me, and I feel stupid for not considering it sooner. And realizing that this _activity_ just consists of me volunteering personal information to a total stranger makes me nauseated. "...Hey, we're behind. Let's swap and fill out our own."

"Oh—okay!"

I force my way through bullshit questions that I don't have answers to. Favorite animal, whatever. Favorite food, who cares. Favorite movie, as if I've seen more than three movies in my entire life. Favorite band, like I could actually name even one. Somewhere in my head I have a vague, blurry memory of sitting on the carpet in an unfamiliar room, listening to old records. It's so unclear and so far away I don't even think it's my own—I think it must have been a scene from something I read years ago but can't quite recall.

"Whoa, Riku. It's not a test." Selphie's voice drags me away from trying to place that not-memory before I go crazy, and I realize that I haven't written a single thing down since we swapped papers.

"I just couldn't decide if I liked golden-yellow or sunshine-yellow the best," I say. She giggles.

I don't think I can do this.

The teacher calls time, and everyone makes their way back to their desks, still talking. She introduces herself, reads a fact off her sheet, then tells us to start.

Fuck.

I watch the rows, as each student gives out their name and some piece of personal information like it's nothing. 

Fuck me blind. I hate every second of this.

"I'm Riku," I say when it's my turn, and it sounds like my voice is coming from somewhere beside me. "My favorite color is yellow." Selphie bursts into giggles, and I'm wondering for a second if this is how inside jokes start, and if this is how the other boys felt, the ones I could never be like, with their smug grins and laughing groupies. I wish I could just stand up and walk out.

Well, I could, but I don't think I'd ever stop walking if I did. Anyway, at least my turn's over and it really wasn't so bad.

Selphie walks next to me for a short amount of time on our way to our next class for some reason, departing with a cheery "See ya!" when it becomes clear that we'll be in separate buildings.

My next class is fine. I don't absorb much, but I don't think there's much to absorb on the first day. It's fine. I'm fine. I'm just tired and there's so many people. I don't know what to do during icebreakers, I don't know what to do when they start talking to me, so I brush them off. I can't afford friendship. And I don't want theirs. There's nothing we can offer each other.

\  
I collect Sora at his locker at the end of the day, and we walk in relative silence to the bus stop. Being next to him helps. Being as far away from this campus as I can get will help even more.

Sora lets me have the window seat on the bus. Almost insists on it. It's all fine and good, but it doesn't really change anything in the long run. I'm still going to set a date for when I leave. To make this all real. As soon as I get back to Sora's house I'll start planning, start saving.

...but it's going to be really hard if Sora keeps smiling at me like this.

So much for not taking it to heart. But it has to be done.  
\  
The bus ride back from school is a little easier than the one to, and the walk is mercifully quiet. Sora's eyes are drooping, like he might sleep standing if I don't keep an eye on him. He must have burnt himself out.

It isn't until we make it back to the house and settle at the dining room table for light first-day homework that he speaks up.

"Hey, what are we going to tell people?" Sora asks. "About where we came from. I feel like if people know we're dating and living together… people are gonna ask." I'm quiet, thinking. I guess I figured no one would ask, but that’s ridiculous. Above all, teens are nosy. "…I mean, I have it easy. All I need to say is that my parents are divorced and they decided to send me up here for high school. But you…"

"More complicated," I fill in. "…As usual." He smiles sheepishly, shrugging. Lies spin in my head; it needs to be something simple, not too many details to keep track of, as few holes as possible. "We've been friends for a few years," I say, and Sora looks at me with wide eyes. "More than a few. Since we were kids. But only dating recently. I'm staying here because my parents are gone, and it's a sensitive subject, so I don't like talking about it. And if anyone asks you for more, you tell them you don't feel comfortable saying anything. I'll do the same; if someone asks me anything personal about you, I tell them to talk to you."

Sora nods, face serious. 

"When did we meet?" he asks. 

"…Twelve," I decide arbitrarily. He nods again.

"We met through our families when we were twelve," he says. "Around the time I was getting ready to move up here you lost your parents, so my Dad offered you a room. We were best friends, and had feelings for each other, so it made sense not to be separated during such a hard time."

I nod, a little impressed. "From here on out, we stick to this story at all costs."

"At all costs," Sora repeats.

We continue our homework in silence. For the first time, I really step back and realize that it's not just our relationship that's changed—Sora's changed, too, and I think it's for the better. 

\

Dinner is noisier. Warmer. Mr. Hart asks Sora how his day was and it opens the floodgates; suddenly bursting with energy, Sora gives him the entire play-by-play, from the moment he woke up to where we are now. It's weird, watching them. Watching Sora so open with his father, who's invested and listened and cared. I try to think about any time Nathan asked me about my day and come up blank. I can't ever imagine him looking at me the way Mr. Hart looks at Sora. 

"So, Riku..." Mr. Hart turns his attention to me. Oh God. Here it comes. "How are you liking school so far?" I don't know how to do this.

"Fine."

"How are your teachers?"

"They're okay."

"Make any friends?"

"No."

He smiles. "You will, just give it some time." Ugh, I hope not.

"What are you talking about?" Sora jumps in. "What about lunch? You and Kairi seemed to be getting along pretty well." Yeah, we talked for ten minutes about homeschooling and our disastrous private school stints. That's not friendship, that's... I don’t know what. 

I ignore Sora's comment, going back to my food. Hopefully if I'm busy eating, it'll put an end to this conversation.

\  
Mr. Hart pulls me aside after dinner. Of course he does.

"Riku, about what you said..." 

"I know you think I'm antisocial." I get the words out before he can even say it. It's not like I missed the "worried parent" look he's been shooting me since I said I didn't make any friends.

He's quiet for a long time, staring at me with that same look, small frown and eyebrows drawn in. Understanding and patient and completely fake.

"No," he says finally. "I think you're young and too experienced and have gotten hurt too many times." I tense, suddenly unsure of where this is going. "I know this change is hard on you, but having a group of friends to rely on will make it easier. No one you run into will be that bad, I promise. People are just people, Riku."

I scoff. 

He says it like it's so easy. Like I don't know that a monster hides beneath the skin of every last person who's ever existed. Even him. 

Even me.


	15. First Dance and First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sora finally convinces Riku to be a good sport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora's perspective.

Our first few weeks as normal teenagers fly by in a rush of doctor appointments and after-school tutoring sessions. Kairi and I have been talking a lot about hanging out away from school and even though we haven't gotten the chance yet, I'm over-the-moon excited. I just can't shake the image of Kairi, Riku, and me doing everything together. Of course, this fantasy is shot down about a month into the semester. By none other than Riku, obviously.   
   
It's a sunny day after school that our argument-not-argument starts. I slide back on the bus stop bench, arms crossed and staring Riku down. It's moments like these when I feel like nothing ever really changes between us, like I'm always pleading with him. Two months ago it was just so he'd talk to me, today it's so he'll go to the homecoming dance with me. No matter what, it's always something. I guess I should be thankful that the topics of our arguments have gotten so small, but I'm too annoyed right now to consider that a blessing.   
   
" _Please_?" I beg. Riku's unmoved, hands in his pockets as he stares me down. His eyes are narrowed. 

"No," he says.  
   
"Why not?"    
   
"Because I don't want to."    
   
"Why not?"    
   
"It's not my kind of thing, I told you that."    
   
I frown, puffing out my cheeks to let out a long stream of breath. We don't even have to dance or talk to anyone else. We can just turn up for an hour and leave, it doesn't have to be a big thing. I mean, all of our friends are going and I don't want to be left behind.  
   
"You can go without me, you know," Riku says finally.   
    
"Well, yeah, but it wouldn't be the same without you."   
    
 Riku looks away, suddenly very interested in the Bus Stop sign.   
    
"I'm not going."   
    
"I wish you'd go with me," I mumble.   
    
"But I'm not."   
    
"Why?!" Just as we're about to go full-circle, Kairi waves us down, bouncing up to the bench and throwing an arm over my shoulder. "Hey!" I try to greet her brightly, and not like I'm in the first quarter of an annoying argument with my boyfriend.    
    
"I'm glad I caught you!" she says. "Selphie and I were  thinking we could all meet up at her house before the homecoming dance and head over together." From a front pocket in her backpack, she pulls out a scrap of paper with an address printed on it in messy handwriting. "She asked me to get this to you."   
    
 "That sounds great!" I squint, trying to make out the numbers and letters. Is that 251... Smerfdag Hag? That can't be right... "I'd love to go... if I can figure out where she lives..." Kairi giggles, brushing a piece of short red hair behind her ear.    
    
"Here--" she says, and grabs a marker from her pocket. Over Selphie's scribbled handwriting, she traces something a little more legible: _6781 Arrowhead Street._    
    
Man, I wasn't even close...   
    
"So I'll see you both there, right?"    
    
I glance up at Riku, his face unmoving, and make my decision.    
   
"You'll see me there," I say, rolling my eyes. "Riku's not going." Kairi's face falls a little.   
    
"Why not?"   
    
"He doesn't want to."   
    
"Oh... That's too bad."   
    
"Tell me about it," I mumble. I glance up at Riku and, amazingly, he goes a little red under our collective gaze.   
    
"Well, I'll dance with you," she says after a moment. I grin, taking her hand.   
    
"Is that a promise?"   
    
"I'll go," Riku says quietly.   
    
...what?   
    
I stare at him, watching his face as if it'll make me understand his thought process.   
    
"...Oh! Okay then. I'll let Selphie know." She smiles, squeezing my hand. "This is exciting!"   
    
"Can't wait," I tell her, giving her a quick squeeze back as the bus slows to a stop in front of us.   
    
*   
    
Riku flits around nervously the morning of the dance. I don't know if it's related or anything, but he's anxious and paces around like he just doesn't know what to do with himself.  I'd ask if I thought he'd give me anything to work with, but I don't really want to push it.    
    
At about three I start to get ready to head to Selphie's, throwing on clothes a little nicer than the jeans and tee I've been kicking around in all day.    
    
"...Hey," Riku says, just as I'm sliding on my shoes.   
    
"What's up?" I ask.   
    
"I think I need to skip going to Selphie's." I stop mid-stomp, staring up at him with wide eyes. "I'll meet you at the dance."    
   
My stomach plummets, but I can't let myself be disappointed. Not before I pry for more information, at least.   
    
"What's going on?"  I take a place next to him on the couch, close but maybe not too close, hesitating to put my hand over his when he's being like this. Very tentatively I go for it, but Riku slips his hand out from my grasp like I kind of thought he would. I don't think it's personal, though, so I'm not gonna bring it up.  
   
"...This is all a little much for me," he replies, surprisingly candid. Oh... right. This is all pretty new to him—and me, too, I mean—but... I can see why this would overwhelm him. I don't know why I didn't think he'd be this much of an introvert, but it's all good. 

After all, I could take him up on the offer, to separate now and meet up at the dance. But what fun is that? And besides, what kind of boyfriend would that make me? I'm more than happy to meet him in the middle, happy to kick my shoes off and settle in.  
   
"Okay, then we won't go."

Riku's eyes go wide, like he can't believe what I just said.  
   
"Sora, no—go if you want to, I can just meet you there. It's fine." I take his hand back in mine.  
   
"Nah, I'm good. Let's watch a movie instead."

He still doesn't take his eyes off me, watching for... something, maybe something that would indicate that I don't want to do this. But I do, or else I wouldn't have offered. 

...Well, maybe if it meant a lot to him.

"...You're sure," he says. "You're sure you're sure."  
   
I flip on the TV and hope that says it all.  
   
*  
Selphie was a little bummed when I called her up to tell her we wouldn't be able to make it, but she still seemed excited to see us at the dance, so I'm not too worried about it. The atmosphere is better as we start getting ready to go about two hours later, and we're even chatting as we head out to the bus stop. Already, I'm thinking I'll consider this night a win.

"I've never actually been to a school dance before," I titter a little nervously as we wait, jumping when the bus rolls up, tires shrieking.

"My school didn't really do dances," Riku responds. "Not until high school, anyway. If kids wanted to throw a party, they'd just go fuck around somewhere on the outskirts of town." He shrugs. "I only ever went once." My eyebrows shoot straight up, but I wait until we board to prod him for answers.  
   
"Wait, _you_ went to a party?" I ask. He shrugs again.   
   
"I think I was probably desperate to get out of the house. Must have had a particularly bad fight with Nathan or something." His face twists a little. "I can't imagine how I would've gotten there, though. It wouldn't have been an easy walk... I just remember drinking too much spiked punch too quickly and getting sick." I scowl; I don't even know why, I just realize suddenly that my face is locked in a furrowed-brow, frowny kind of look.

"You got drunk? Did you know your drink was spiked?"

"Once I tasted it, yeah."

It feels weird, knowing that Riku's okay with that kind of thing. After living with my mom for so long, seeing what that kind of life did to her... I don't think I could ever be drunk, and I definitely don't want to hang around drunk people. I don't how Riku could possibly feel any different.

I stare out the window through our trip, blinding lights streaking past in blurs of white, yellow, red. The city looks so different at night. I bet the school will, too.

"You nervous?" I ask. Riku shrugs.

"Nah. You?"  
   
I almost shake my head, but instead I go for honesty and say, "A little, I guess." A small smile touches Riku's face.

"...Yeah, me too." 

Look at us... scared over nothing. We used to stare death in the face every day. But this? This we can do.

*  
Just taking one step into the gymnasium reminds me how big this school is, and the dim lights, loud music, and copious amounts of glitter and streamers almost overwhelm me. The sea of unfamiliar faces makes me realize how many people here I've never seen before, let alone spoken to--or maybe it's the sheer amount of jewelry and heels, blazers and slacks, that make all of these people seem like strangers to me. It's weird enough just seeing Riku in a button-down shirt and clean shoes, let alone... all this.

Riku says, "Well?" And that's all it takes for me to start laughing nervously. I guess I'm a little intimidated, but I don't let that stop me from heading right into the thick of it, on the lookout for red hair.

Together we wind through the crowd, brushing past enthusiastic dancers and overly affectionate couples. I wave whenever I see a teacher I recognize, and most of them take a second to wave back as they help with food or try to prevent some of the more... er... provocative dances being performed every so often. Riku's the one who spots Kairi, giving me a nudge in the side and weaving suddenly off to the left. My heart swoops both times I almost lose him, and it's all I can do to not fly into Kairi's arms when we finally reach her. Besides, I don't think that would go over all that well--at least, not in front of the two unfamiliar-looking guys she and Selphie are deep in conversation with.

“Hey!” I call over the pulsing, pounding pop music blaring all around us. Selphie's the first to see us, lighting up and greeting us both with a hearty “You made it!”

“Glad to see you,” Kairi pitches in with a smile. “Has everyone here met already?” I shake my head, eyes falling across the short, messy-haired blonde and tall, tan redhead just quick enough to take them both in and not enough for them to think I'm like, checking them out or something. Introductions are rushed in order to keep conversation going, so I only barely catch their names, and I hope I'm even hearing right when she calls them Tidus and Wakka. Guess I'll find out for sure next time I can actually hear. I'm trying to tune in to the conversation when--

"Sora!" Another voice cuts through the crowd—a kid from one of my classes whose name totally escapes me, since we've only spoken a grand total of three times. Still, I feel kinda bad about it... I should probably know by now, huh?

“Hey!” I chirp, extra cheerful to make up for my gaffe. “What's up?”

He shoots me a grin, flushed like the temperature in the gym suddenly skyrocketed.

"I was kinda wondering if you wanted to dance?"

I stare at him, blinking. He must not know about Riku and I... ooh, that's awkward.

I glance up at my boyfriend nervously, not sure how this is gonna go over. I don't think Riku's gonna be mad at me or anything, but I'm wondering if this will become a _thing_.  
   
"Go ahead," Riku says, just quiet enough so I'm the only one who hears. My eyes go wide, mouth agape. I know I look every bit as surprised as I feel.

“...Really?”  
   
He nods.

Well... okay.  
   
I hesitate for one more second, just in case any minds suddenly change—including mine--before letting my classmate lead me out to the main dance floor. 

From there... we wing it.

I'm not a great dancer, and honestly neither is he. For the first minute or so we're completely awkward, all loose limbs, not really getting where hands and feet should go. But eventually we begin to pick up on some sort of rhythm. Couldn't tell you if it's the actual rhythm of the song playing, but it works. We take it a little slower, and that keeps us from stepping on each other. And we laugh. A lot.

As cool as it would be if Riku would come out and dance with me, this is pretty cool too, and this guy is pretty cute. Not on Riku's level or anything, but definitely really cute.

Something in my stomach pangs at that thought, and it takes me a few minutes to decode. Guilt, maybe... not for having the nerve to find someone other than Riku attractive or anything--I don't really have a problem with that since Riku's mine and I'm his and some guy whose name I don't even remember won't change that.

I guess a part of me still feels bad that I find a guy attractive at all. But we're dancing together and no one's staring—a guy actually felt comfortable enough to approach me in the first place, which was the first good sign—and if I'm not mistaken, there's a lesbian couple just a few feet away from us, faces close and hands linked as they dance together. And it's all just... okay. No one really seems to care.

With that anxiety behind me, I get to just be happy that someone wants to dance with me. And since I know know it wouldn't torpedo our chances at having good reputations... I'll start working on Riku to agree to dance with me starting now, so maybe he'll come around by Senior prom.  
*  
Riku sticks it out for another hour or so before getting antsy, and I guess I'm pretty ready to go home at that point too. I got that dance Kairi promised me, to some mushy romantic slow song, then socialized enough with everyone that I feel pretty content. Still considering this one a victory. Now... I'm pretty ready to get home and sleep.

“When's the next bus?” I ask as we leave, throat raw from yelling over crowd noise all night. And my ears are ringing, too—even the Saturday night traffic is nothing compared to being stuffed into the high school gym with a couple hundred other kids plus DJ.

“Not for another forty-five minutes,” Riku replies, hands stuffed in his pockets as he walks several paces ahead of me. “I was thinking we could just walk. We'll be halfway back before the bus even arrives, and we can always hit another stop if we change our minds.” I nod the affirmative.

“Sounds great. Thanks, by the way.”

"For what?" he asks.

“For tonight. For coming, and being cool when that guy asked me to dance... and for telling me you didn't want to go to Selphie's first, too. That was important for me to know.”

I look up at him, trying to decode what's going on in his head, but he avoids the eye contact I'm trying desperately to make. I guess that's telling, too.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says. “Don't worry about it."

*  
Sunlight falls in my eyes early Sunday morning, waking me naturally. Sometimes I still expect there to be nothing but dirt around me and empty homes for miles when I open my eyes. Waking up in a warm bed never stops being a relief, especially when I can't chase off the odd nightmares that still creep up on me here and there.

I stretch, curling my toes and rolling onto my side. Next to me, Riku is sleeping, bundled in the comforter and furled up in a small, tight ball. I wish he were facing me so I could snuggle up next to him...

I press my cheek to the highest place on his back I can reach, throwing an arm over him, and a leg too, until I'm all starfished over him, half warm-half cool, and probably about as comfortable as I can ever be.

"Mmm..." In his sleep, Riku curls in on himself even more before loosening up and spreading out, meaning that I get to hold him a little more naturally. As much as I want him to sleep... I want him to wake up and play with me _more_. We've been so busy with school that we haven't had a good make-out session in _ages_ and I'm dying a little.

The phone rings, loud even from the other room, and that's what pulls Riku from the clutches of sleep. He breathes deep, pushing back his messy bangs and shaking himself loose from me. "What time is it?" he asks, voice still thick with exhaustion.

"Dunno. Time for more sleep, I think." He cracks a smile at that, shifting to face me.

"Hey."

"Hi."

And then we're kissing, all lazy and slow, and I don't know who started it, but I know I'm not gonna be the one to end it. His lips are getting so soft, not to mention his hands, no longer cracked from the dry heat seeping into our very beings. I let him take the lead, following whenever his tongue dips into my mouth, returning the favor when he grants me access. 

Instead, I focus on feeling him, hands rushing over his sides, eliciting a small laugh from him—right, ticklish, I forgot—lightly squeezing muscle and all those little places that used to be bony but are finally getting a little soft. I make a new discovery: Riku likes when I grasp his hips, running gentle circles over the bare skin with my fingers. I'm thankful for his loose pajamas, which pull and twist when we move, giving me unpredictable access to flashes of naked flesh whenever we shift around.

I work him while he kisses me, pulling out all the stops, just wishing I could do everything he likes all at once. I think this works just as well, though, if his wheezy breathing is any indicator. I'm sorely tempted to tease him about it, but... maybe later.

I give him an experimental little bump with my hips, beginning to rub against him. He slows, but doesn't stop, though I can see him watching me out of the corner of his eye. I finally move one hand away from his hip, sliding it around with the intention of grabbing his ass in a moment of either bravery or insanity. But I chicken out at the last minute, opting to stroke his hair instead.

Riku's tiny groan is cut off by a series of firm knocks on the door.

We both shoot each other the same exasperated look as we rise from the bed. It's like Dad could tell we were getting kind of hot and heavy and just _had_ to interrupt, jeez.  
   
We pull apart, untangling limbs and straightening clothes. Riku heads off to the bathroom while I just try to make myself presentable enough to throw the door open.  
   
"'Morning," Dad says. "Hey, I forgot to mention that I got your results back from the doctor on Friday." Oh, right... I'd totally forgotten that we got our blood drawn and stuff. It was all kind of overshadowed by Riku's weird outburst.

"Oh! Great, how's that looking?" Behind me, the bathroom door opens and Riku emerges, fully dressed. I motion for him to come over with the nod of my head. "Lab results," I fill him in. Dad smiles, offering Riku a nod of acknowledgment.

"Riku, you're looking fine, just a little low in some nutrients. Another few weeks of a balanced diet and you'll be back to normal. For you, it'll just be important to stay in physical therapy until further notice. Sora, unfortunately they did find that you have a minor infection, so on Monday we'll need to pick up your antibiotics. It isn't serious, so no need to worry."

Yeah, I'm not super surprised by that at all. Riku took pretty good care of himself out there all things considered, and I was there to make sure nothing happened when he almost started to let go. As for me... eh, I'm not worried about it.  
   
I thank Dad and let him know I'll be heading down for breakfast soon, turning just in time to see Riku's briefly-tortured expression.

“...What's up?” I ask.

Predictably, he answers: "Nothing." Like I'm gonna let that slide.  
   
"Riku..."  
    
"I was the one who bandaged your wounds,” he says. “I fed you. I decided when we slept... and you came home sick. I could barely take care of myself, and I obviously couldn't take care of you. Couldn't protect you." 

Whoa.

That's the last think I ever would have expected to come out of his mouth.  
   
"Hey—hey, Riku—no. No, don't think that way. You saved my life, you taught me everything you knew, and you did a great job. Okay? This is nothing. I'm gonna be fine." I press a kiss to his forehead. He's so stupid. " _Don't worry about it._ Let's just go eat breakfast, okay?" He nods, following me slowly out to the hall and hovering, like I'm gonna break any second. I whirl around to look at him, which is maybe not my best move, since I nearly miss the first stair down. "I'm _fine_ , Riku! Seriously!"   
   
"...I know you are. You always are." I blink, watching helplessly as he passes me. What's that supposed to mean?

 

 *  
Turns out my day only goes downhill from there. The second I get downstairs the phone rings, and in my rush to pick it up for Dad it doesn’t occur to me that there may be someone I'd rather avoid on the other end. No good deed, right?

"Hello?" I ask, prepared to take down this person's name so I can deliver it to Dad, assuming it's not a sales call.

"Sora?" The unmistakable sound of Mom's voice fills my ear, her tone surprised. I'm right there with her.

"...oh, hey Mom! Did you, err... did you want to talk to Dad?"

"No," she responds, sounding light, but I can sense that undercurrent of irritation from a mile away. "I'm glad I caught you, sweetie."

With intense trepidation, I respond, "I'm glad too! How's it going?"

"Starting from when I got home from work to find that you left school early and never came home, or when I discovered from my ex-husband that you turned up halfway across the country without telling anyone where you were going?"

Blood rushes to my cheeks, my throat constricting. I knew this talk was coming eventually, I just... didn't think it would be so soon.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," she repeats. "Well, that just fixes everything."

"Mom--"

"No need to worry that I've had to spend the last three months cleaning up the mess you left behind, or all the sleepless nights I've spent wondering if you're still alive, you're _sorry_ \--"

"--Mom, Mom, I—" _I'm sorry_ threatens to come out again, but I have a feeling that'll go over even worse than it did the first time. "I didn't know what else to do. I felt so hopeless, and school was killing me—being home was killing me and I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry." I say it again without thinking, and I don't even know if it's the truth.. I'm sorry about the people I hurt, but I think that might be it. How can I be sorry about how things ended up for me? For Riku?

She snorts.

"Right, because your life was so bad." My jaw sets, and I just try not to grind my teeth. I've gotten this speech before, any time I complained about anything or when I'd cry out when she hit me. I know it's coming, and it sucks. It hurts. "And I'm such a witch, and no one understands you. Poor Sora, why doesn't everyone else see how wonderful and perfect he is?"

Voice wavering, I interject, "--I never said--"

It isn't surprising when she talks over me, waiting until she hears the loud, embarrassing sniffle on my end before she finally lets me be. 

It's never enough for her until one of us is crying, usually me. Mostly me.

"...I'm just telling you what I thought," I mumble.

"That's exactly why you need me,” she barks. “You just don't think things through, and I'm the only one who reigns you in."

"I really didn't mean to hurt you, Mom! I just... things are better here. Not just for me. I feel like it's better for everyone. I don't want you to be unhappy." There's a pause, enough that I brace myself for... whatever's coming next.

"Oh, Sora. You're so full of shit." I find a spot on the carpet to stare at, blinking tears away. "I'm just glad you're safe and away from that boy who took you from me." I let out a strangled sound in my attempt to absorb what she just said and respond all at once.

 "...Riku?" I choke, finally. "No, you've got it all wrong—he's my friend, he's staying with me and Dad." She stops, whatever she was going to say never comes out.

"Of course," she huffs finally. "Of course. Mike is _such_ a hero, taking in every stray addict that crosses his path. Sora, give him the phone when we're done."

I have a very bad feeling I just dragged Dad into something that shouldn't be any of his business. Or mine. I wonder if I can deescalate this.

"Mom, Riku's a really good person. He isn't why I chose not to come back with you--"

"Sora, I saw him dragging you away with my own eyes."

"--all he's ever done is help me. He saved my life, and--" I raise my voice over the condescending 'hah!' that escapes her. "And he's my boyfriend now, so."

"Boyfriend," she repeats.

"Yeah."

She laughs.

"Sora, you don't even know what a relationship is. Let me talk to your father."

Lucky for me Dad emerges from the kitchen before I have to put Mom on hold and go search for him. I hand him the receiver wordlessly, only giving him a quick "it's Mom" when he shoots me a confused look. Unable to bear even a word of their conversation, I tear into the living room, flopping down on the couch and furiously rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.

I knew Mom would be mad. I mean, how could I not? And I guess that was tamer than it could have been, but... she didn't need to say those things. She didn't need to make fun of me. I never said I was perfect. And my relationship with Riku is real, whether she likes him or not.

I only vaguely register Riku taking a seat on the other end of the couch, but it still makes me jump to my feet, springing up like we're on a seesaw.

"I think I need to take a nap," I say to no one, to the room.

"I could go for some more sleep," Riku says, rising too, and in my moment of hesitation I catch his face going a little pink as we both realize that that wasn't an invitation. "...or. Or not...”

"Mm." I shake my head hard, just trying not to let on how much is going on inside right now. "Yeah, let's go. But only if you cuddle with me."

Riku lets out a small laugh, following me up the stairs. "I think I can manage that."

We settle on the bed, my knees pulled up to my chest and Riku's cheek pressed to my back. Stubbornly, I grab his hands and pull them over my sides, initiating full-snuggle-position. It's better, but... everything still feels wrong. I hope I feel better when I wake up.

Riku and I are real. Mom doesn't know what she's talking about.

"Let's go on a date," I murmur. Riku hums his acknowledgment.

"When?"

"Soon."

"Okay."    
   
We settle in, Riku warm next to me, and I drift off. 

*

The following week is easier. Dad and I pick up my meds on Monday so that's underway, and while my homework load steadily picks up, it's not totally unmanageable yet. Tuesday, Kairi and I finally make some weekend plans, since there's a new ice cream shop she wants to check out and I'm always down for snacking. She asks me to invite Riku, but when I bring it up with him he's evasive. For now... maybe he just needs to keep scoping things out. On Wednesday I get my first letter from Donald and Goofy, basically confirming that everything is okay back home, and I mail my response Thursday after school.    
   
Friday, Riku and I go out on our first date.   
   
It's stupid of me to be so nervous but I am; I have butterflies all through lunch, and my last class of the day is a tortuous countdown until we can get home, change, and go back out. We picked out a restaurant downtown yesterday, and I asked Dad for an advance on my allowance, and everything is all in motion. Most of the day is just waiting.   
   
Come five, we're about as done with homework as we're gonna be considering it's a Friday night and neither of us have anything due Monday anyway. We both change into relatively nicer clothes, which for me just means that I'm wearing clean shoes and Riku's in jeans that are a little more well-fitting. Then I yell goodbye to Dad as we head out, double-checking to make sure my cell phone is in my pocket and that I have the spare house key and money in my wallet. And that's all there is to it.

As we walk to the bus stop, Riku and I don't speak much. I wonder if I should hold his hand... I wonder if he'll let me... Subtly, I inch closer to him, ever-so-slightly brushing my pinkie against the side of his hand. When he doesn't pull away, I slide my palm over his and link our fingers together. I catch a small smile grace his lips and he squeezes.   
   
"Hungry?" he asks.   
   
"Mm. Honestly, I'm still hungry more often than not." I laugh a little, even though it's not funny. "I wonder when I'll stop feeling like I'm gonna starve."   
   
"It shouldn't be long,"  Riku says. "We've only been here... around a month? I'm sure you're going to be adjusting for a long time." Hopefully not longer than it took me to actually run away...   
   
Riku gives my hand another squeeze.   
   
"C'mon, before we miss our ride." I look up and sure enough the bus is a few minutes early, idling while an older and less-than-mobile woman slowly files on. We rush ahead, Riku a step or two ahead of me, but I'm doing a pretty good job keeping up.    
   
We're the last two on the bus, just barely squeezing on before the driver shuts the doors. Totally rude... he saw us coming. I don't let it get to me, though. I just enjoy the ride till we get downtown.   
   
Our restaurant of choice isn't too hard to find—it's lit up like Christmas, rainbow and gold lights strewn over the surrounding trees and shrubs. Out on the patio there's live music, which I make a mental note to sit away from. No offense to the musicians, but I want to talk to Riku and actually be able to hear what he says... plus, I'm kind of danced out from last weekend, anyway.    
   
We squeeze between a small gap in a group of older girls who look like they might be kind of drunk and weave between a family looking at a menu posted on the outside of a tinted window. Riku and I just head straight in, grabbing an empty table toward the back when the hostess tells us to sit anywhere. I guess we're not quite at a popular dinner hour... I guess it is kind of early for a Friday night, but one of us has a curfew to think of.   
   
"We're getting dessert, right?" I ask, grabbing a menu from the center of the table. I zero in on spaghetti with garlic bread and decide there's no need to look further.   
   
"That was fast," Riku observes. I shrug, a little sheepish. "Figure out what we're getting for dessert. I'm still deciding." Fine by me. It means that after I determine that we're going to split Crème Brulee, I get to just sit and watch him.

With the extra sleep and plenty of food, his skin's taken on more of a healthy, pink kind of hue and the dark circles under his eyes are pretty much gone. And I can't get over how thick and shiny his hair is, feeling vaguely hypnotized every time he pushes it behind his ear or over his shoulder.    
   
"Your hair's getting so long," I marvel.    
   
"Yeah, it does that."    
   
Whatever quip I was gonna follow that with is interrupted by the waitress who comes by to take our orders. Probably for the best, because when she leaves, the atmosphere is a lot less sarcastic.   
   
"...Hey," Riku says, hesitating a little as our drinks are brought to us in record time. "If you want to talk about that call you had with your mom last weekend... I'm here."   
   
I blink."Oh! Err—yeah!" To be honest, I'd kind of forgotten about it until now. But now it's right back in the forefront of my memory, for better or for worse. "It was... I dunno. It was fine. Mom's still Mom, even after everything that's happened." I shrug. "But that's why I left, so there's no use looking back. Things are better now." I give that last statement a second thought. “Things are finally good now.”  
   
"...yeah," he agrees distantly. "They are, aren't they?" On that note, I think we've exhausted this subject. It's time for a new one.  
   
"Homecoming was super fun,” I tell Riku. “Thanks again."   
   
It's his turn to shrug.

"It's really not a big deal."   
   
"Yeah it is."   
   
He snickers, looking down to hide his grin. "Okay, so it's a big deal, then. You win."   
   
"I always win," I announce proudly.   
   
Riku scoffs. "You wanna bet?" he asks lowly, and it does something... I don't know... really weird to me. Needless to say, I'm thankful when the waitress sets down our food, for more reasons than just one.   
   
*   
   
Sunday arrives all too quickly, but at least I have plans to look forward to. The ice cream place Kairi and I plan to meet up at isn't too hard to find, and it's not quite busy enough for us to worry about a wait before we get our orders. Finding seating is a different story, though.

At this point, ice cream has been dripping down Kairi's hand for the better part of a minute; I can tell she's briefly lost in thought as we finally settle on opposite sides of a long booth that's newly free. Then she's back with the little, startled shake of her head.     
   
"What's up?" I ask.   
   
"Remembering I have a paper due Monday," she responds, cringing a little before lapping the ice cream trail staining her wrist pink.    
   
"Already? Gross."   
   
She shrugs. "I'll finish it tomorrow. How was your date with Riku?"    
   
I think back to that weird, fluttery feeling low in my stomach whenever he looked at me, the way I'd brush his hand with mine when we were eating dessert. Making out in the doorway before we got back inside the house at the end of the night, and how hard it was to just... turn off and go to sleep after. It was amazing, but I wanted more. I don't know what I wanted more of, I just wanted it.   
   
"We had a lot of fun. We don't really get time like that together a lot, so."   
   
"That sounds really nice. It's too bad he couldn't come today."    
   
I frown, remembering Riku's weird avoidance every time I brought this up, until he finally told me he wasn't coming along. "...yeah, it is."   
   
"You okay?" she asks, head cocked.  
   
"Oh—yeah! Just fine." 

“So... is Riku your neighbor or something?” She watches me closely, and I know for sure she catches the way my eyes go wide. “Or... does he live with you?”  
   
"...Why do you ask?" Okay, so it's not very smooth. But this is another conversation I wasn't anticipating anytime soon.

"That's the impression I got at homecoming when you left. You mentioned how you needed to get home, but it sounded like you were going to one place. I guess it's none of my business, but I was just wondering." Kindly, she adds, "I think I was the only one who noticed."   
   
It's so hard to not just tell her everything. Even though we haven't known each other that long yet, I trust her. Riku would smack me upside the head for saying that, but it's true.   
   
But we have a cover story; one I promised to stick to.    
   
"...Yeah,” I tell her. “Riku lost his family, so he lives with Dad and me. We were already close friends, so it made sense." Kairi gasps, clapping a hand to her mouth.   
   
"I'm so sorry. No wonder he's so quiet... I can't imagine what he must be going through."   
   
Somehow I didn't anticipate that kind of reaction.

Uh oh. I hope that this plan doesn't end up backfiring on us.   
   
"He's fine," I say, maybe a little too dismissively; she raises her eyebrows at me, like she's seeing me as the insensitive jerk I suddenly feel like. "I mean—it was a while ago and he's doing really well now."   
   
"I'm glad to hear it," she says, still looking at me like she doesn't totally buy it. As hard as it is not to start covering my ass, I resist. I don't need to give her any more details than that. It's what Riku and I agreed on. Still... someone I could trust would be nice...  
   
"...Hey, don't tell anyone, alright?"   
   
"Of course I won't, Sora." She smiles.

I wish I could tell her everything.   
   
Maybe being normal will be harder than I thought. 


	16. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku struggles to make his boyfriend's birthday extra special.

I can't believe that all these monumental changes in my life are beginning to become routine already. School is something I've long gotten over, but I'm still going. Physical therapy is two hours of peppy doctors poking and prodding at me, but I get through it. Homework is dull and uninteresting, but I do it. 

And then there's Sora. 

His birthday is in a week, more or less--a fact which he hasn't let me forget since the first of the month--and I still don't know what to get him. I don't know what he'd want or like... this is all a little more involved than I thought it would be. My family never did birthdays—not a single one of them—so I don't really know what to do to begin with. 

Sora's laying on the pressure, too, which doesn't help. I know he's kidding, but it doesn't do anything to ease my already overworked mind. 

Sighing, I slump over and pull my feet up on the seat of the bus. We should be at school in ten minutes. It gives me a little more brainstorming time, but it's already Friday and his birthday is a week from Saturday and still I'm at a loss. 

"Hey, Riku," Sora says. I pry one eye open, already recognizing the look on his face and knowing what's about to come out of his mouth. I tilt my head and lay a kiss on his jawbone, a small one, one that wouldn't be noticed by anyone not paying close attention. I punctuate the gesture with a simple statement. 

"Sora, if this is about your birthday then I swear you won't live to see it.” 

He throws his head back laughing, dragging a hand down his face as his joy rings through the bus. 

"It's not about my birthday." 

"Then what is it?" 

He's quiet. "Okay, I lied. It was about my birthday, _but_ \--." I give him a shove and he meets me in kind with a fist to my arm. An eye on the people around us, I knee him and he kicks me, the two of us stifling laughs and trying not to get too into it. Regardless, we're sore when we get off the bus—or I am, at least—and I get the distinct feeling that this is an activity that my physical therapist would seriously disapprove of. 

 

\  
I finally suck it up and go to the mall over the weekend. Sora insists on coming at first, but when I firmly decline company his eyes widen a bit, and I know he knows what I'm doing. He backs down quickly after that. 

I haven't actually been to the mall since our first day here, so going at it alone overwhelms me at first. It's a lot all at once—massive groups of teenagers and more families than I can count, milling around, loud and rowdy, too caught up in storefronts to watch where they're headed. And then there's the sheer number of places to look when I don't even know what it is I'm looking for. I don't know where to start. 

Wandering aimlessly seems like my best bet. 

Something will jump out at me sooner or later, or at least it better because I'm not leaving empty-handed. 

"Riku!" 

My first instinct is dread. My second is to actually ask myself who's calling out for me. Within seconds the answer presents itself in the form of a tackling hug I stiffen and squirm my way out from as slowly and unoffensively as I can possibly manage. 

"...Selphie," I say, in lieu of a proper greeting. "...What are you doing here?" She draws back with a big smile, waving the bags in her hand. 

"Just hanging out. What are you up to?" 

Okay, I'm saddled into this conversation, then. 

"...Just. Needed to get some shopping done. For Sora's birthday." She lights up, and I wish she wouldn’t. 

"Oh! What are you getting him?" 

"...Haven't really decided yet." 

"Well, if you need any help wrapping, I've got you covered." Grinning, she lifts a long, skinny bag housing about six rolls of wrapping paper. "I might have spend fifty dollars at the stationery store, so... I have plenty to spare!" 

Oh, shit. I didn't even think about presentation. As sick as it makes me to ask for help... it's for Sora, so it has to be just right. And she's offering, she's literally offering. It would be rude to decline, right? 

"...I just might take you up on that if it's alright." 

"Of course it's alright! Sora's birthday is next weekend, right? I've got some stuff going on this week in the afternoons, but I can stop by Saturday morning!" 

"...okay." 

What did I just get myself into? 

\ 

I get back two hours later, mission accomplished—or, as accomplished as it will ever be. I think I did okay. I wonder if it isn't a little desperate to get him a ring, if that isn't saying something I'm not intending, but it looks so much like him: sterling silver, with small gold crowns wrapping around the thick band. Once I see it, I can't imagine getting him anything else. I just hope it fits. I hope he likes it. I hope I don't fuck this up. 

\ 

Saturday rolls around too quickly for my liking. Before I even know it I'm rolling out of bed at seven to be ready for Selphie at eight. The plan is to get her in and out before Sora wakes, which makes for a high-pressure, competitive morning that I kind of thrive from if I can be completely honest, which is a bit of a surprise. I forgot I had that in me. 

"I've never done this before," I warn her as she hands me a roll of black paper with _Happy Birthday_ printed in lines of rainbow font. I lead her through the entry and across the living room, out the sliding glass door so we can set up on the patio. 

"I won't judge you," she responds, giggly and high-energy, almost impossible for me to know how to work with. 

"Shush. Sora's asleep upstairs."

She skips a beat, finally meeting me with a confused, "Oh, okay." That's all it takes for me to seriously second-guess this decision.

Let's just get this done. 

I pull the ring box from my pocket, trying not to look as thrown off when I feel when she snags it, snapping the lid open and letting out an "Ooh" that might be put on but I just can't quite tell. I just focus on cutting out a small corner of paper and grabbing the dispenser of clear tape off to my side. 

"The edge looks nicer if you fold it in," she says, reaching over my little workstation. I give her the gentlest of gentle swats on the side to get her out of my space and she seats herself with a giggle, holding her hands up as if in surrender. It doesn't mean I don't follow her advice, though, smoothing out the little jagged edges where the scissors caught so it looks that much cleaner. I feel her eyes on me as I tape it down and move to fold in the open sides. "...So how was the sleepover?" 

"Hm?" 

"You said Sora was sleeping upstairs when I came in. How was the sleepover? What did you guys do?" 

"Oh—no—it's—this is his house. His Dad's house, I mean. I just. Live here." 

"Oh..." 

That piques her interest, I can tell, but she doesn't ask. I should let it go, but I give it to her anyway. No reason not to; there's a reason we came up with a cover story, after all. 

"Sora and his dad took me in ages ago. I don't have much of a family." 

"Oh!" 

I just shrug, like what can you do. She reaches out to touch my hand, but I slowly pull back as if I didn't see. 

"Almost done," I tell her. "Just need some ribbon, I think." 

"Right! What color do you want?" 

"Surprise me." She stares thoughtfully at the rolls in her hand before tossing blue over to me—caught off guard, I don't move to catch it in time, and it rockets halfway across the yard. She erupts into giggles, standing. 

"Oops!" 

"I got it." 

I follow the blue trail into a small bush, where the now mostly-unraveled spool sits half-hidden behind a branch in a shrub. I don't know if Selphie's ever gone out for softball or something, but she could if she wanted to. 

"A little worse for wear," I tell her, making my way back with my unraveling find. "...Sorry about that." She just waves her hand. 

"S'fine. We can still put it to good use." 

For some reason, it's the stupid bow that takes me a few tries, until Selphie offers me a slim finger to stop everything from slipping around while I'm trying to work with it. We're left with a present that actually looks like a present, and something that's not bad for my first try I guess. 

"It's perfect! Hey, tell Sora I wish him a happy birthday, okay?" 

"Definitely." 

She stands, pushing paper and supplies back into her messenger bag, and holds out her arms, but I don't know what she wants me to give her since I think she's got everything already. Before I can hesitate too long, she wraps her arms around me and gives a squeeze. 

Oh. 

Right. 

I'm too slow to return the gesture, and I don't know if I would have even if I'd thought about it. She's giggling again as she pulls the last of the blue ribbon from her bag, looping it loosely around my neck and twisting down an arm until the ends meet. I must look like one of those big, old dogs too tired and weary to pay mind to a puppy that wants to play, but I just let her ribbon and bow me until she's satisfied. 

It's probably about the least I can do. 

I see her off with a sincere thank you and a promise to see her on Monday. 

The house is so still and silent, so suddenly. I'm nearly tempted to head to the beach, but it's nearing nine, which means that Sora's father will be down any minute, and Sora will follow soon after. 

So instead of sitting here stewing, maybe I should just get to Sora first. 

I climb up the stairs, making the familiar walk to Sora's room, taking a seat on the bed as a familiar question haunts me. To wake him, or not to wake him... I should let him sleep... 

But... 

Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, I give him a shake, then swoop down to plant a kiss by his ear. He's slow to come to, wiping his eyes with the back of an arm and still needing to blink heavily a few times before he looks anywhere close to alert. 

Something inside flutters when he cracks a grin the moment he lays eyes on me. 

I don't even try to stomp it down. 

"...Happy birthday," I say, not even minding the face full of morning breath that hits me when he props himself up and plants a kiss on my lips. 

"Happy birthday to me," he responds, still grinning as he settles back down in bed. "Are you my present?" At first, I think he's just being cheesy as usual. Then I remember the plastic bow Selphie stuck on my shirt, and the last of that sad blue ribbon down my arm. I must look like a sad birthday mummy. 

"...I should probably get this off..." 

Sora snickers. "Don't. I'll be right back." He climbs off the bed, seeing me off with another kiss before he heads into the bathroom. I settle on the bed, semi-comfortable as I wait for him to come back. At least it doesn’t take long. He climbs over me, smelling like mint and soap, planting the gentlest of kisses over my face. I wonder if he thinks I'm delicate, when he does this, or if he's just a gentle person. Neither would surprise me. 

This isn't very comfortable, half-bound, but somehow I don't mind. It's... weird, it feels different, with Sora handling me like this. Sometimes when he's on top of me I feel like the walls are closing in, like I just can't breathe, and I need him to give me some space. But today isn't like that. I don't know what causes that unpredictable varience in my mood, my preferences, but today I just let him overwhelm me with soft kisses and hot touches. I let him wind and unwind ribbon from my body like delicate rope. I just let myself be helpless. 

\  
Throughout the day, I do my best to make sure that my little piece of the world revolves around Sora. Even if I don't really _get_ birthdays, I know it means a lot to him, so I don't question it; I just respect it. 

Mr. Hart makes pancakes for breakfast, and my contribution consists of stirring eggs and chocolate chips into the dry mix as he gets out pans and pulls some bacon from the freezer. Soon the house is warm and smells like salt and sugar and fat, and even I'm looking forward to eating by the end. I bypass meat and sugar, topping my pancakes with strawberries and drizzle some honey over the top. Meanwhile, Sora's coated his with so much powdered sugar and syrup it's almost impossible to tell what's hiding underneath. When I reach out to hold his hand, I get sticky. But that's okay. 

Sora takes a nap after breakfast, so I just do my best to let him be. He deserves so much sleep after the past few months we've had. It really has been nonstop, hasn't it? Just a few weeks between running away and school to relax isn't enough. Especially not after all the beatings he took out there. Not after passing out from heat exhaustion. 

I wonder if he's drinking enough water. I should remind him that that's still important to keep track of. And he should eat more fruit. 

Like he needs that. Like he needs me. 

Still, he's beaming when I wake him again, but maybe that's just because it's time to go to lunch. It doesn't explain why he sits in the back with me on the car ride over to the small café Mr. Hart picks out, though. I'm doing the best I can, and I know Sora says he likes me, and that trying's enough, but I just can't really fully believe it yet. I'm working on it. But... I just need time. And I don't know how much we have. 

We park in the back of a small lot and file in, weathering through a fifteen minute wait before we can be seated. And it's fine, and I have nowhere to be, and things are fine. 

So just enjoy it, okay? 

Sora squeezes my hand while he chats amiably with his father. I swear we must be going for a hand-holding world record; we haven't separated even after getting out of a car and settling in at a small table in the front of the restaurant. I don't argue or anything. I just stare out the window, always waiting for something but I don't know what. I give Sora an accidental squeeze when a whole squad of cops walk in to pick up a to-go order, jolt of panic telling me to _hide_. I forgot. I can't believe I forgot I'm still on the run. I have a roof over my head and clean clothes and I go to school like a good little boy, and I'm still a fucking runaway. I stare out the ground, white-knuckling Sora's hand, until they go. I say nothing. 

"I'm starting to finalize plans with my sister and we're thinking that the three of us will head up to visit your next three-day holiday." This little note is the first part of this conversation I tune into, just in time for Mr. Hart to turn his statement into a line of questioning. "Either of you know what those dates are off the top of your head?" 

Sora thinks for a moment. "I think we have time off in a few weeks." 

"Two and a half," I reply, to Sora. His father cracks a grin. 

"Looking forward to a vacation?" He teases. Stone-faced, I hold eye contact for only a moment before looking away. "...Alright. Well, I'll look into it and let you know what we find." 

"Sounds fun! I keep forgetting you have a sister. Wait-- three sisters, right?" Sora asks. 

Mr. Hart nods.

"You'll get to really meet everyone over Christmas. Your grandparents are really looking forward to seeing you again." 

Sora beams, but I can't look. Our next break is only sixteen days away and it feels like a deadline. I can't let Sora and his father really think I'm going to let myself get all tangled up with the rest of their family. Not when we all know I don't belong and I'm never going to be a part of things. Not really. And it's all the same to me. 

If I'm going to go, it needs to be before our fall break. It has to be in two weeks or it's never going to happen. I can't keep putting this off.

\ 

After lunch, Sora and I finally get more alone time. It isn't much, the two of us curled up on the covers of our bed, but it doesn't need to be. Sora and I have always gotten on fine—sometimes best—just existing together without speaking. That doesn't mean I'm opposed to conversation. Not always. 

Sora asks, "You ever wonder if the police just let us leave?" so I guess he really did notice what happened earlier. I wonder if he felt nervous too, even for a moment.

"...What do you mean?" I ask.

"When they were holding us for questioning that time... and when my mom came to get me really early on. I mean, it was two armed adults against two exhausted, underfed kids... I just don't think they couldn’t have gotten us back home if they really wanted to. Anyway, that's kinda what I'd been thinking," he confesses with a smile. 

"Why bother us at all, then? Just to scare us?" I ask in return.

Sora shrugs. "...We didn't really stick around long enough to find out." Sure, but would we want to?

"I guess, depending on where we were... there might not have been anything they could actually do." 

Sora nods, adding: "We weren't causing trouble, no underage drinking, no drugs, no loitering... if just being a runaway wasn't illegal in _that_ town..." 

"They couldn't do anything if we wanted to leave." I only think it over for a moment. "But they did call our parents." 

Sora just shrugs again, voice apologetic. "Yeah, well. If you were an adult..." 

Those are difficult shoes to put myself in. Am I supposed to believe they really thought they'd be doing us a favor? 

"...Maybe..." 

"Well," Sora says, flopping over to face me. "It's in the past now. They arrested us, and then they let us go." 

"We escaped," I correct him. 

"They let us go," he repeats, smiling at me. Yeah, whatever you say, Sora. You hopeless optimist. 

I just roll my eyes, kissing his forehead and curling against him. 

"Yeah, well... regardless. I don't want you thinking about all this today. Happy thoughts, yeah?" 

Sora snickers. "'Cause you're the king of happy thoughts, right?" 

I just shrug, twisting at the waist to plant another clumsy kiss on his face. Touche. 

"Well. Do as I say and not as I do." He meets that one with a loud snort, patting my hip a few times before rising. 

"C'mon, it's time for presents." 

Right. Presents. Well, time to see how this goes. 

I follow Sora down the hall as he collects his father, and together the three of us trod down the stairs and into the living room. Mr. Hart disappears into the linen closet for a moment, reemerging with an armful of bags nestled in the crook of his elbow. 

I stand off to the side as they settle at the living room coffee table, watching Sora tear tissue paper from plastic, watching him watch me, and his dad, this big, silly grin plastered on his face. Watch him react with immense joy with every new book, video game, or article of clothing. No one deserves this more than him. I hope he gets to hold on to this feeling. I hope his entire life gets to be as warm and soft as he is. 

"Riku!" Sora calls, reaching for me. 

Oh. Right. I guess it's my turn. 

"You're so far away," he adds, smile wide. I take my usual seat next to him on the couch, sliding my gift out from my pocket and placing it in his lap in one motion. "Oh!" He says it like he honestly wasn't expecting it, like he really thought I wouldn't get him something. Please. "Thank you!" 

"Well, wait until you open it," I mutter, and he laughs like I'm joking. I think I might be. Kind of. 

He slides the ribbon off the box and tears the wrapping paper off in one go, folding it into a square and setting it back on the table. Funny that he decides to be gentle with it after all's said and done. 

He stares at me with wide eyes when he sees the telltale velvet box, and again I'm wondering if getting him a ring isn't a little... desperate... somehow. He pops open the lid, letting out an "ooh!" and a "Dad, look!" 

I flush, face only reddening at Mr. Hart's nod and "Very nice," said in a calm tone, hand on Sora's back. If he tries to meet my eyes... I'm not looking, just watching Sora as he pries the ring from its case, sliding it onto his ring finger. His face drops a little, brow furrowed in thought, and once glance tells me that the ring is at least two sizes too big. It hangs on him, at least a few centimeters to spare, and even when he moves it onto his middle finger it doesn't quite work. 

Well, that sucks. 

"...I guess I don't know ring sizes well enough to make an educated guess," I say, waiting for... something. Fallout. "Sorry... I'll make it up to you." 

Sora shakes his head fervently.

"Don't worry about it! Riku, I love it." 

"You'll grow into it," Mr. Hart says. 

"Yeah! Don't sweat it." Sora looks up at me, eyes glistening. "I really, really like it. Really. Thank you." 

"Actually... hold on." Mr. Hart rises from his place on the couch, hurrying upstairs. With the few moments of alone time it gives us, Sora squeezes my hand, the loose ring scratching against my skin. His grip loosens when his father reemerges, a small silver chain in hand. "Here, I never wear this anymore. Try sliding your ring on the chain and see how that works." 

"Good idea! Riku?" He holds it out to me, fingers pinching either ends of the chain, the ring weighing down the middle. I take one side from him, but I'm not quick enough with the other—the ring slides off and hits the carpet, but I at least stick my foot out quickly enough to stop it from rolling too far. 

"...Sorry." 

Sora just grins, dropping his shoulders so I can more easily clasp the necklace chain around his neck once it's put back together. Around his neck, it sits just below the clavicle, overlapping slightly with the tips of the crown I can't believe he still wears. Every day. 

I can tell we both want to be more affectionate with one another, but it's weird with an adult in the room. We end up having to wait until after dinner, after cake and ice cream, to steal our own, private moment, kisses in the living room leading us back to the bedroom, groping under our sheets until we're out of breath and out of sorts. 

"Best birthday," Sora gasps, rolling onto his back, silver glinting around his neck in the dim moonlight. "Best ever." 

Just to seal the deal, I roll back on top of him, pressing and dragging kiss-swollen lips over any hint of skin I see. 

Let's make this the best birthday. The best, ever.


	17. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora's trip to visit relatives raises questions about who he is--and if he can fully accept it.

Suddenly my life is all practice tests and papers, the end of tutoring, the end of physical therapy, and the end of my antibiotics. If I get the chance to eat or sleep or hang out with Riku, I can barely even remember. Before I even know it, school's out for our four-day autumn break and we're off to visit my aunt. 

I sit in the front seat and watch through the rear view mirror as Riku and Dad load the trunk with our stuff, bags and bags and bags... it looks like we overpacked, but really the clothes we're bringing are so thick and warm you just can't fit a lot into one suitcase. I see the door to the trunk drop from my view and a decisive click, then Riku and Dad are sliding into their respective seats, buckling seat belts and—in Riku's case—grabbing a book to read for the long trip ahead. I turn at the waist to give Riku a smile that he returns very warily, only turning back around once the car starts to move. Even then, I keep glancing up at him through the rear view mirror. He's humoring the hell out of me right now, so I really owe him one. I can't forget that. 

"It's going to be fine," Dad mutters, pulling the gear shift into reverse as we back out from the driveway. He gives my shoulder a squeeze, smiling like he can read my mind. Or my mood, at least. 

I'm quiet, soaking in the conversation we had the other day as we were packing. 

"Hey," Dad had said brightly as I wrestled with my new winter coat, which was proving impossible to fold. "I need to talk to you real quick." 

No matter how it's delivered, that's never a good thing to hear. I sat on the bed—just in case—staring up at him as he told me point-blank that his sister is traditionally pretty cool, but that they grew up in a religious household so he wasn't totally sure how she'd react to... me. Or, to Riku and I. Being a thing. 

And then there's her boyfriend, Andrew. "He's said some things in the past," Dad said. "I don't think you and Riku would be in any kind of jeopardy, or else I wouldn't have set this up. I think--" he struggled for words, for some reason I don't totally get. "I think he's ignorant. I think his only knowledge about—about—" 

"Gay people," I filled in without even stuttering, 'cause every day it gets easier to own my identity. 

"Yeah. I think his only knowledge about gay people comes from things he's heard from his macho friends. I think it comes from a place of fear, not anger, or hate, or... wherever else intolerance comes from. I just want you to know going in that it may come up, but I'm ready to do what it takes to make sure they don't give you any trouble. You're going to love your aunt, Sora. And she's going to love you." 

I replay it in my head, over and over, the way Dad's external confidence didn't totally hide his momentary hesitation. None of it does much to inspire comfort in me as we turn onto the freeway, but I trust Dad, and between him and Riku... I don't think I have a lot to worry about. Whatever happens, I can handle it with them by my side. 

Still... I can't deny that the idea of being rejected by my extended family hurts more than a little. 

I let Riku know about the situation, once Dad and I had finished talking, and we decided it would just be best to lay low, just in case. So that's gonna mean no kissing, no touching, no hand-holding or hugging. I guess if it comes up for whatever reason, I won't lie. But... just this time, Riku and I aren't going to exactly advertise that we're boyfriends. Just until we know better, what might happen if we do. 

I hate that it has to be that way, but I'm still going to just try and have a good time this weekend. 

This is gonna be a long drive, and I just can't sit here bored and worried for the bulk of it, so instead I just sleep, slipping into some reoccurring dream I can never totally remember once it's done. 

* 

A bumpy strip of road startles me awake, followed by the faraway sound of Dad swearing mildly and apologizing as we hit a pothole. I can hardly hear him—at this altitude, my ears are completely plugged. For a few minutes, I start trying to make myself yawn in hopes of popping them, which isn't hard considering I'm exhausted and groggier than I can ever remember being. We slow to a stop, pulling off to the side of some mountain road that's about this close to being in the middle of nowhere. The tiniest hint of trepidation sets in—I wasn't kidding when I told Riku a few months back that I was sick of ghost towns. Let's hope our destination is a little more populous and a little less... this. 

"Are we there?" I murmur stupidly. Or are we stopping for food, maybe a bathroom? I could go for either, honestly... 

A groan escapes from me involuntarily as I stretch, surveying the impossibly tall, thick trees surrounding us on all sides, huddling in my seat to protect myself from the chilly autumn air. That's when I realize the doors are wide open... and Dad and Riku are nowhere to be found. 

Nothing wakes a guy completely quite like the sudden, cold wash of complete panic. 

I whirl around, swallowing hard when I find--again—that the back seat is empty, and so is the driver's seat. Is something wrong with the car? They wouldn't have just wandered off and left me... 

Against my better judgment, I slowly unbuckle and slide out of my seat, stumbling when one sleeping foot hits the gravel funny, sending it tingling back to life. 

My heart is pounding so hard I actually feel it as I wrap my arms tight around my body to fight the cold. White air streams from my nostrils and mouth with each exhale and the wind blows it back in my face, blocking my peripheral vision. I shuffle around the car, passing what feels like one open door after another, even if it's just the two—mine and Riku's. Winding around back, I find Riku doubled over, leaning against the trunk with his hands on his knees, and Dad kneeling in front of him, maybe a foot away. 

Oh. 

My heart takes a good thirty seconds to stop trying to escape from my chest, but the familiar sense of just feeling silly is instant. 

"...Nine, ten. And in—one, two, three, four..." 

They aren't even quiet, which maybe I would have noticed if my stupid ears weren't all plugged up. 

"What's going on?" I ask. Dad doesn't really give me an answer, just pushes himself up to both feet while brushing the dirt from his knees. 

"Nothing to worry about, buddy," he replies with a tired smile. "Come on, let's get going. We're almost there." 

I hang back a little longer after Dad starts for the driver's seat. I know when Dad and Riku are together they don't tell me anything; I have to weasel information out them separately. 

"What happened?" I ask Riku, looking at him as best as I can while having to shield my eyes from the sun, its rays amplified behind a veil of white clouds. 

"Nothing," he replies, shifting his gaze from me to the seat in front of him and turning back around, back against the seat. "I just..." 

"What?" I press him for the answer when he stalls for a second. 

He shakes his head. 

"Got car sick or something. I'm okay now." 

"Car sick?" I repeat. "Oh..." 

"Yeah, well. I've never been in a moving vehicle for more than an hour, Sora. Guess my stomach couldn't take it." He's uncomfortably close to snapping at me, but I don't say anything. I think we're all just really tired and ready to be out of the car. 

Realizing that we've still got a few hours to go, I curl back up in my seat, cuddle into my jacket, and go back to sleep. 

* 

When Dad shakes me up, it's a little before six in the evening. I catch another minute or two of rest while Dad and Riku unload the trunk, but then he's laughing at me to hurry up and get out. 

The second part I can do, but he's gonna have to let me do it at my own pace. 

My eyes squeeze back shut on their own as I stretch, raising my hands high above my head until my arms flood with warmth. My neck is next; I take care to roll my head slowly, since I'm stiff enough as it is. I guess humans weren't really meant to sleep at a forty-five degree angle for six-to-seven hours, huh? 

A long breath pushes out of me as I go limp into my seat again, and it's all I can do not just to fall back asleep right then and there. Maybe I overdid it with the napping... 

"Hey!" 

Riku's voice jolts me into full alertness; his palm slamming against my window prompts something dangerously close to a shriek to fall from my mouth. 

"Shit," I gasp, nearly falling right out of my seat as he yanks the door open. "You scared the hell outta me!" 

"Woke you up, though," Riku says, grinning, like that's gonna stand. I jump to my feet, chasing him up the slope of the driveway, still a little too sluggish to catch up despite Riku being weighed down by a bunch of my bags. We're winded as we reach Dad, knocking on the front door of a nice little cabin-style home, surrounded by the rest of our stuff. 

"Here, take your shit," Riku adds quietly, tossing me a duffle bag just heavy enough that it nearly knocks me right over. I brace myself just in time, and once my center of gravity is adjusted, I lean in and swing, bumping Riku roughly with a soft side of the bag. He leans on me in response, adding more weight until I have to start pushing back to stay upright, the two of us laughing and giggling like kids. 

"Stop goofing off," Dad says. We freeze, both feeling chastised, I can hardly look at Riku as we wait to be let in. Still, I don't feel so hard done by that I can't slap a smile on my face when the door flies open, revealing a bright-eyed brunette about the same height as my dad. Their resemblance is unmistakable, and I find myself trying to pick out my own features in their's. It's all in the coloring—I have their blue eyes, but my hair is a little darker brown. 

My aunt Taylor is followed by this big, tall, lumberjack-looking kinda guy who hands quietly in the background, just sort of looming there. This must be the homophobic boyfriend. 

...Come on, Sora. Don't think stuff like that. 

"Mike!" she chirps. "It's been forever, you doof!" Grinning, she throws her arms around Dad plants a massive kiss on his cheek. He bats her away, wincing. 

"You're looking good," he replies sheepishly. "You've been well?" 

"Not as well as you, it looks like," she says with a small smile, motioning for me to take a step closer. She envelops me in a rib-bruising hug when I do. "Good to see you again, love. Do you remember me at all?" 

"No," I reply honestly and she laughs, responding with something like, "yeah, I figured as much" before she lets me go. "And you must be Riku!" 

"Right," my boyfriend replies, reaching to shake her hand then awkwardly getting a hug instead. I reach to give his arm a squeeze when she lets him go but... maybe that would be a giveaway. So I don't touch him. 

"Come on in," Taylor says. "I should have invited you all in sooner. It's freezing today!" 

"That's fine," Dad responds, shouldering my first bag and grabbing the handle on his suitcase, piled high with two more bags of Riku's and my stuff. "I don't expect manners from you, Tay." She gives him a hard nudge in the ribs for that one, but all he does is grin. It takes a minute for me to realize it, but I'm grinning too. I look up at Riku, wanting to share my excitement with him, but he seems distracted suddenly. For the second time in less than a minute, I find myself going to touch him and stopping short. 

Maybe this will be harder than I thought. 

* 

Taylor's place couldn't be more different than Dad's. It's smaller and cozier, made with dark woods and these huge windows everywhere to help offset the dimness. I can't help but wonder if she might live up here for her boyfriend's sake, because every room has a little 'beachy' touch: shell art and little bottles of sand on virtually every surface. Not to mention the subjects of all of the paintings hung on the walls—beach chairs and umbrellas, sand and surf. 

"Did you paint these, Aunt Taylor?" I ask. 

"Oh, no," she says. "I don't know one end of a brush from the other! These are from flea markets." 

I nod, quiet for the rest of tour as she leads us from bathrooms to the kitchen to the guest rooms. Dad's got the bigger of the two rooms, while Riku and I will be sharing one just down the hall. That's a relief... I know I can only pretend not to be Riku's boyfriend for so long, and having a private place to sneak away will be very, very needed every night. 

"Now, there's only one bed," Taylor says, no idea I'm thinking, perfect. "But there's a fold-out couch in the living room. I'll let you decide how you'd like to handle that." 

"Don't worry about it," Riku says, and my jaw nearly drops. I hate to admit it, but I thought for sure I'd be hitting the couch. "We can share a bed." 

"Are you sure?" Taylor asks, like that's the last thing she would have expected. "It's really no trouble!" 

"Fine by me," I pitch in, shrugging, trying to seem casual. Her lingering glance doesn't last too long, all things considered, as she changes the subject with the clap of her hands. 

"Well, I'll let everyone unpack, then! Dinner will be ready soon, so let's regroup in fifteen." 

We thank her politely, Riku shutting the door once she's out of earshot and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. I hang on to the feeling, knowing that our little stolen kisses are gonna be sparse these next few days. Still, it does help knowing that we'll be sharing a room, so it's not like we're totally forbidden from being a couple in private. 

Riku and I have basically the same version of unpacking, which is just to pry our bags open and throw our toiletries into the guest bathroom before calling it a day. That gives us a good ten minutes to laze in bed, my head on his shoulder, preemptively missing him. 

"Thanks for coming," I tell him, words half-muffled as I turn to nuzzle the space where his neck meets his shoulder. 

"I didn't have much of a choice," he points out in return, a small smile on his face as he tilts his own head to rest against mine. 

We both know that isn't true. 

Riku and I separate just in time for Taylor to call us for dinner, which is about the same time I realize that I haven't eaten anything since our harried brunch this morning. I spring off the bed, following the scent of some kind of roasted chicken all the way back into the kitchen. 

"Smells great!" I announce, joining Dad and Andrew at the dinner table but not involving myself in their conversation. It's all adult stuff that goes over my head, anyway. Riku trails behind, snagging an open seat next to me as Taylor starts bringing out plates. 

"Do you need any help?" Riku asks quietly, beating me by seconds as she makes her second trip, this time with a steaming dish of potatoes. 

"Don't worry about me, sweetie." 

"You sure?" I pitch in. She just ruffles my hair, grinning as she turns back into the kitchen. 

Food is eaten in relative silence from our end, as Dad and Taylor take center stage, swapping childhood stories between mouthfuls of some really amazing food. Man, this is the best meal I've had since I settled in. I wish Dad could cook like that... not that I'd ever complain about a warm meal, of course.

"--When I was eight, you told me I was adopted," Taylor says, topping Dad's story about how she used to eavesdrop on his phone calls with his crushes, undetected, for months. "And for three years, I completely believed you!" 

Dad laughs harder than I've ever seen, head thrown back and a hand on his forehead. "That's because you were!" 

"I had an identity crisis until junior high!" she chortles, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with the heel of her palm. 

"Just wait until Mom and Dad have the courage to tell you themselves." 

"You were the worst big brother!" she sighs, still bursting into giggles. 

"And nothing's changed," Dad teases, giving her a light sock on the shoulder. 

I watch them with a grin plastered on my face, vaguely wishing for a sibling of my own. Maybe that would have made things different for me, growing up. To have someone in my corner, the unconditional love I didn't really get from Mom. Still, I'm thankful to be here, to be included in this family. My family. Still, there's a small loneliness I can't shake, left over from so many years of just Mom and me, and her boyfriends who always, always wished I wasn't around so much. 

* 

Taylor gets called in last minute to take a short shift at the store she manages tomorrow, so she ends up heading to bed early with an apology and a promise to see us in the morning. Dad retires pretty shortly after, which isn't a big surprise considering he had to drive all day. That leaves me and Riku and Andrew, the latter I happily ditch once he starts filling the sink to get started on dishes. I'd offer to help if I felt comfortable alone with him, but... 

It isn't personal, I just haven't ever been given a good reason to trust people who don't like people like me. 

So, Riku and I slip into the guest room, changing into pajamas and curling up in bed. Since it's still pretty early, Riku grabs a book while I fish around for one of my handhelds games, slapping in one of many half-finished cartridges and letting my brain melt a little over some strictly T-rated animated violence. It's only so much of a distraction, though. I try not to let my thoughts move in this direction, but all I can think of are all the ways this weekend can go horrifically wrong. 

There are a million things I can do to out myself entirely by mistake. And if that happens, I'm outing Riku, too. One slip up, and I could sacrifice my entire place in this family and risk getting Riku into trouble. If it's really bad, my dad will have to pick sides, and if he does he could lose his sister forever. 

Or me. 

I wish things could be different. 

Sometimes, I still wish I could be different. 

"You seem on edge today," Riku says, breaking the silence after a good ten, fifteen minutes. 

"I'm surprised you're even talking to me," I respond. "You haven't finished your book." 

"Sora." 

I let out a nervous little chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck with a free hand as I pause my game and set it aside. 

"...Yeah, I guess I am." 

"Want to talk about it?" Riku asks, rolling onto his side and looking up at me with his head propped on his hand. Those eyes are so blue today. They just tear right into me in the best way. 

"….I guess I want to be liked, and I'm afraid of slipping up." 

"You gonna be okay?" 

I shrug, slow to respond. 

"Yeah," I decide finally. "What else can I be?" 

We fall into silence, listening to the creaks of this unfamiliar house. Riku slides closer, resting his face against my hip as I sit propped by pillows, legs stretched in front of me. He throws an arm over my lap, drawing his own legs up so his knees press against my calf, the contact like little spots of sunshine on this cold, gray night. 

...This cold, gray, wet night. 

"It's raining," Riku observes, about a second after I notice unmistakable sound of fat drops hitting the ground outside. 

"Glad we're inside," I remark, beginning to stroke the pale strands of Riku's hair. It isn't as soft as usual, since he ran out of conditioner sometime last week. I'm not exactly compelled to stop, though. "I wonder if there's gonna be a storm." 

"It is pretty dark out." 

Yep, suspicions confirmed. It only takes another hour or so for the rain to start falling fast and heavy, at which point we're both safely tucked under the covers. The warmth of two quilts above us is a massive comfort as rain pounds the window and roof while wind whistles through the trees, distorting them and pushing their branches into all sorts of weird angles. I jump at the first clap of thunder, which sounds like it came from a few miles off. But it's nothing compared to the massive storm that hit when we were hiding out in that motel. 

The motel. Man, I almost forgot about that and now... I don't know how I ever could. 

The cold, the dark... shattered windows and shuttered doors. That night was easily the most afraid I've ever been. There were times I really thought the whole building would collapse and kill us both. It was almost worse than my first night as a runaway, when I really did almost die, just because it was so drawn out, so unbelievably long. Still, suddenly I can't shake the image of cold eyes, a hateful face... and the group that just stood by and watched when they weren't helping him kill me... 

"Riku?" I whisper, gently shaking him. 

"I'm up, you know," he replies. Thunder crashes again and I cling to Riku without even thinking. I'm safe, and I'm okay, but I can't stop thinking that I'm hungry, thirsty, exposed. "Sora—are you okay?" 

"Yeah," I say, almost in falsetto. I swallow hard, knowing that must have sounded pretty weak."No. I don't think so." 

"You're safe," Riku murmurs, shifting to face me. "Okay? You're safe here." 

"I—I don't know what's wrong with me—I'm not scared of storms, but I just--" In my head, it's all fear of dying, fear of rejection, fear of abandonment. 

Riku rests a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

"Sora, there's nothing wrong with you. You need to breathe." I'm trying, but every little intake of air is a gasp, like I can barely get the oxygen to my lungs and from there to my brain. "Shh. Slow down and breathe." 

"I can't." 

"Yes you can. Breathe in for me, Sora, okay? Just breathe in, slowly, for ten seconds." I'm trying, but I keep letting out these awful shallow, shuddering gasps... "Your dad is one door over, and I'm right here, and we won't let anything happen to you. You're okay, Sora. This will pass. Breathe." 

For some reason, it's the feel of him slowly stroking my face that makes my breath catch. I let it out slowly, trying to focus but nothing on his voice, deep and low, counting from ten. Then it's a deep, slow inhale, pulse slowing, heart rate calming. "Are you going to be okay?" 

It's the weirdest thing, but I almost have to think about it. 

"Yeah, I am. I just... it's like I forgot where I was." I shake my head, laughing weakly. "Kind of embarrassing." 

"That was a panic attack," Riku says gently. He seems to hesitate before confiding, "My mom used to have them. It's okay." 

Okay, he says. 

Yeah... it is okay. 

Riku snuggles against me and strokes my hair once. All previous fears forgotten—almost—I fall right to sleep. 

* 

Riku and I are woken by a heavy knock on the door, and we have to scramble to release each other. I don't know when we curled up together so tight during the night, but that would be a hard one to explain. Even to Dad, who's probably gonna want us to start sleeping in separate beds once we start... um... doing more things together. 

"Just a minute!" I call out, scanning the room for a clock as I pull on some fresh clothes. 

"Take your time!" Taylor responds from the other side. "I thought we could eat breakfast together before I head off to work." 

"What time is it?" My question isn't really for anyone—it's just weird to be up when it's still dark again. 

"Six," she replies, way too cheerily, followed by the sound of her fading footsteps. 

"Six," I repeat to Riku, shaking my head. So much for a relaxing vacation. 

 

* 

Okay, I admit it... breakfast was worth waking early for. They've set up a whole spread like a buffet across the island in the kitchen--pancakes and waffles, hash browns and eggs and fresh fruit. Man, I'm so hungry it's hard not to get some of everything. Even Riku's grabbed more than just a few strawberries and a slice of toast, which is pretty unusual for him. We eat gathered around some invisible center point, standing with our plates, slowly picking the platters clean as we talk and eat. I know I'm allergic, but I wonder if I could manage just a bite or two of scrambled eggs... maybe if I steal it off Riku's plate, or is that too familiar? Is it a tell? 

I guess I never realized how unnatural trying to act straight is for me since I haven't needed to hide in half a year. Now that I can be myself, I don't really know how to go back. 

But whenever I feel like I'm about to go nuts, I just clutch the necklace he gave me and remind myself that everything will be back to normal soon. Two days. 

"Sora," Andrew calls to me from the entry, and I have this stupid little moment of thinking he _knows_. "Your dad and I are going to play cards. Want to join us?" 

"Sure," I reply, a little too eagerly, sliding my plate into the sink and following him into the family room. 

"Ever played poker? We could make it work with four." 

I shake my head. "No, never. I don't even know how to play." He doesn't seem to be surprised, hearing that from a fifteen-year-old. 

"I'll help you out," he says, giving me a surprisingly gentle pat on the back with his massive, calloused hand."You joining us?" he asks Riku next, just as Riku seems to be heading back to the guest room. 

"Thanks, but I'll pass," he says. I stare at him, imploring. He doesn't need to play, I'd just really appreciate the company. Riku meets my eyes and gives me a half-nod, but who even knows what that means. 

Andrew walks me through the game the first time, giving me pointers and patient instruction, even leading me to near-victory. Riku, perched on the couch behind us with a book, makes a snide comment or two about my unconvincing poker face when cards are being shuffled. I snort, meeting him with an elbow in the knee—the only place I can reach. What I wouldn't give to pull him into a kiss, just a quick one. 

* 

At least the rest of the morning goes smoothly. There isn't much to do as we wait for Aunt Tay to finish up her shift, so I play some more video games while Riku buries himself in his reading. Spread out on the couch, he's as unmoving as ever, absorbed and distracted and not here. I'm starting to wonder if that's intentional. If he needs to be away from reality as much as he can. I watch him off and on for nearly ten minutes. He's still for most of that time, shifting and resettling only twice, pushing down ruffled clothing or just getting more comfortable. The second time he pauses to adjust, I strike. 

"Whatcha reading?" 

"It's for school," Riku responds. 

"Oh." 

I guess that's my cue to find something else to do, then. I set my game down on the table next to me and decide to track down Dad sometime after I'm already walking. I find him sitting cross-legged on the bed in his guest room, bent at the waist as he types on his laptop, eyes flicking between the screen and a pile of papers spread out around him. 

Ugh, don't tell me he's doing work too! 

"...Hey," I say, not quite bridging the last few steps into the room. 

"Sora!" Dad calls, looking up. He reaches out and pushes his papers closer in one swoop, then pats the now-empty space next to him."What's up?" 

"Bored," I respond, taking the seat offered to me. 

"Bored?" Dad repeats loudly, and I lurch back as he reaches for me, but it's too late: he grabs my shoulders and shakes me gently once, twice, three times. 

"Shit!" I yell out without meaning to, only laughing once I get over being so startled. 

"What about all the video games I just bought you for your birthday, huh? What about that?" He ruffles my hair before sitting back again, giving my shoulder a friendly little squeeze. Meanwhile, my heart is still racing a little. I hate to admit it, but for a second there I thought I was actually in trouble. Which makes me a little mad at Mom, for making me this jumpy. Or maybe it's just me. 

"Sorry, Dad," I say, still giggling, embarrassingly enough. 

"Experiencing a little cabin fever?" he asks. 

"Yeah, I think so." 

"Well," he says, swinging his legs off the bed and standing. "Let's go for a walk. And watch your mouth, Sora!" 

I'm sliding on my jacket when I catch that little bit and I have no idea why he'd--oh. Oops. I just said "shit" in front of my dad. I cringe a little at my slip-up, but he doesn't seem to mind too much. 

Riku hardly looks up when we tell him that we'll be out back, still absorbed in his reading, now laying on his back with his legs thrown over the armrest. Somehow I don't think he's gonna miss us too much while we're gone. It's all fine by me; it'd be cool if Riku volunteered to go with us, but I'll never say no to quality time with my dad. 

Taylor doesn't really have a yard—the back door opens straight out into the woods, miles of untamed land crawling with animals and plant life I've never seen in real life before. I feel small in this unending sea of dark trees. It must be breathtaking out here when it snows... I hope we get to see it. 

In an odd way, it makes me a little homesick, too. It makes me miss the real sea, crashing waves and that unplaceable, unmistakable smell of salt and the millions of creatures that find home there. It makes sense now, that Taylor's place is so beachy. Okeanos is the kind of place you can really fall in love with. I think I already have. 

"Hey Dad," I ask, breaking our long, content silence. 

"Yeah?" 

"You've lived in Okeanos all your life, right?" 

He nods. "Born and raised! I didn't leave for the first time until college... but I always seem to end up coming back. There's just no other place like it." 

"There isn't," I agree. "I'm so happy to be there. And here." 

"You and me both." 

When I look up, I realize we're surrounded by trees. I think I've subconsciously been following some deer tracks left in the muddy, mushy ground. "I'm following you," Dad says. "Don't get us lost." 

"Yeah, that might be a bad way to spend this trip." 

With a laugh, Dad throws an arm around my shoulder and steers us back toward the house. We arrive back at Aunt Tay's just early enough to narrowly beat her home, the two of us cold, wet and a little red-nosed. Riku hasn't moved from his place on the couch, but that doesn't really give us a point of reference to figure out how long we were out. I swear, for someone so restless he can plant himself down and not move for hours. 

"How's your homework going?" I ask. 

"Done," Riku responds, still not looking up at me. 

Right. Okay. 

* 

Day three is harder. I think I probably had a dream or something last night, because I wake up early in the morning with Riku curled up against me and a... problem. I'm barely conscious but already I want Riku so bad I don't know what to do with myself. Straining my eyes, I think the wall clock reads that it's about five to seven, which means the chances of Aunt Taylor or Dad barging in are pretty good, so I can't initiate anything we won't be able to see through. Maybe a hearty breakfast will take my mind off things. I try to just shut my eyes and visualize more pancakes, potatoes, meat, toast, but then Riku lets out a little groan in his sleep and my mind is instantly back to him. 

Ugh. He's so pretty. It isn't fair that he's so close to me and so defenseless, and I can't do anything about it. 

Now that we're together, I wonder if Riku will care if I just brush a little strand of hair from his face while he sleeps... 

That's when Taylor knocks, jarring me into full alertness and eliciting another little moan from Riku as he blinks awake. I drop my hand as if burned, trying to slide my limbs free from Riku's and willing my, er, morning friend to go away. 

"Err—just a second!" I call. 

"No rush!" she calls in return. "I'm gonna get some breakfast started. I'll see you boys in a few." 

"Yeah!" 

I should... probably take a quick shower. Hyperfocused, I grab today's clothes from my suitcase, holding them low over my body just in case. What I want is to get back into bed, to roll on top of my sleepy boyfriend and kiss him properly awake, but... that's not gonna work here for a number of reasons. So I gotta just ignore him until my head's back on straight, as bad as that feels, and march down the hall and into the guest bath. 

I slide the pocket door shut, clicking the lock into place, and begin stripping out of my pajamas. The shower takes a couple minutes for me to get working, and even longer to get the water to a decent temperature... although maybe a cold shower wouldn't be the worst thing for me right now. 

I hop in, stretching out muscles stiff from a long car ride followed by a day of lounging around, until I'm at ease enough to address my ongoing issue. I should just think unsexy thoughts and continue washing down, but... I'm pent up enough as it is... if I can't touch Riku, or kiss him, then I can at least pretend, right? 

I shut my eyes, trying to picture him, what he'd look like in here with me all dripping wet, and what he'd feel like when I reach out to touch him. Warm and soft and smooth. I'd pull him close, touching every inch of him... and I'd want him to kiss me real hot and slow, like he did way back on my birthday. Actually... That I wouldn't mind revisiting. In this fantasy of mine, we'd get each other all worked up then head back to bed, and Riku'd flatten himself on top of me like he did that night, kissing and sucking and lapping at my neck, my shoulders, my chest. And I'd feel it all over, every time he shifted or moved... paired with his hot breath against my ear and the little sounds he'd make when I'd rest my hands low on his back, fingers spreading, wandering, massaging... letting ourselves see how far we can go... 

I let out a long, heaving breath. 

Well... Problem solved. Guess I should finish washing up... and try to muster the dignity to look Riku in the eye once I join everyone for breakfast. 

Ugh, I can't believe I just did that in my _aunt's_ house. 

I shake my head, turning off the water after a few false starts, and towel off. Next I give my teeth a quick brush and get dressed, going through my morning process until I basically look and feel normal. Still, now something entirely different is nagging at me: Riku and I haven't really ever talked about that side of our relationship. Like, at all. We kiss and make out and all that, but sometimes he's still really cagey if I try to touch him, or I'll go in for a kiss and he moves his head or something. It's not a huge deal, and it's not like he has to be turned on all the time—although I wouldn't complain if he were—but... he's still a little unpredictable, and sometimes I just don't really know if he likes the intimacy or if he's just accommodating me the best he can. If he sees it as a sacrifice. 

And if he does... then I don't know what he's getting out of this at all. He still doesn't really talk to me, not like I wish he would, even though he always, always pulls through in the end. Like, calming me down from that panic attack? That took skill, and he didn't even give me a hard time after. He just understood and did what he had to do. 

But that doesn't sit a whole lot better with me. It was what he had to do. He's a good person, and he falls, and he makes mistakes, but in the end he wants to do the right thing. 

But he does like me. That I know for sure. Or else he wouldn't have asked to come with me after I wanted to separate from him when we were still on the streets. He wouldn't have given up his position of de facto leader in order to allow me to take the reigns. What we have goes beyond his guilt at the possibility of leaving some poor beaten kid to die, or some idea that I might owe him something for saving my life. We're friends. And we're boyfriends. And it's just going to take time for things to fall into place, because our lives have been complicated and this is still new for both of us. Two, almost three, months is still a new relationship and I have to keep reminding myself that. Knowing for someone for less than a year is still a new relationship. 

Still, for as difficult as it could make things... I'd really love for Riku to show some interest in the idea of us doing it. Because I'm really getting interested in taking things to the next level. 

* 

I end up late to breakfast, which isn't a total surprise. I do get to hear the end of Aunt Tay trying to get a full sentence out of Riku, which is almost as excruciating as when Dad does it, but almost makes me laugh anyway. I still don't really know if he's shy, screwing around, or just feels like he's too above the small talk, but either way I'm happy to break the tension. 

"Is everyone finished already?" I ask, rushing to throw some food on my plate while it's still a little warm. 

"Don't worry about it," Taylor calls to me from the next room over. "How'd you sleep, sweetie?" 

Boy, is the timing on that question bad. 

"Really good!" I respond. Full plate in hand, I slide into the free seat between Riku and Dad and start chowing down. "I had a weird dream, though." 

Augh, why did I just say that?! 

"Oh yeah?" Taylor asks. 

"Yeah, I—err. I actually don't remember a lot of it anymore, it just woke me up in the morning. I slept well, though!" I think my BSing goes over okay. Riku doesn't even give me one of those long, lingering glances when he knows I'm talking out my ass. 

Whew. 

* 

We all go for a walk together in the late morning to work off some of our food, then in the afternoon we're off to the Civic Center. I get a distinct "give the kids something to do" vibe from the whole thing, since Dad, Taylor, and Andrew are talking about going up to a restaurant for a wine tasting. As adverse to alcohol of all sorts as I am, I just hope they don't get drunk—or that they at least sober up completely before four, the time we've agreed to regroup for dinner. I might be a little pouty on the drive there. Just a little. 

Still, the indignity of the thing is softened once it sinks in that this is going to be some sorely-needed alone time between me and Riku, so I guess I can deal with walking around the mall for three hours. It's a nice building, at any rate, with three stories and a glass ceiling. On the ground floor is a big ornate fountain—the perfect place to sit and share an ice cream from a stand about ten feet to its left. But I think that would count as being too gay to do in public in an unfamiliar town, and it's just unfair. It's so, so unfair. 

"What's that look?" Riku asks, snickering at my deep frown as I stare at the ice cream stand. 

"I thought it would be fun to share ice cream, but realized it would look weird." 

"...Oh." Riku looks guilty with himself for laughing, which is the last thing I ever would have wanted. "Sorry, I didn't mean... I don't know what I thought. Sorry." 

"I get it, you're sorry," I tease. "You can stop saying it now." He still looks sheepish as he shrugs his shoulders, staring out at the fountain behind me. 

"...Old habit, I guess," he mutters. "Funny how those come back when you least expect it." I get it; when you've got an abusive parent, apologizing comes more naturally than breathing. We don't need to take this topic any further. 

"I guess I did look pretty pathetic." I shoot him a grin, just to show him he's got nothing to worry about. He returns a small but genuine smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

"Where to?" 

We end up popping into an electronics store and play on the sample consoles until I get sick of Riku kicking my ass in fighting games, which kills maybe ten minutes. Plus, I have the distinct feeling that the employees aren't thrilled about our broke bodies taking up space in their store. So we wander around taking escalators up and down floors, bypassing a surprising number of cosmetic counters, skincare stores, jewelry stores, clothing stores... it's pretty clear this space isn't really meant for us, which explains why the majority of young guys we see are hanging out in large groups, skateboarding or roughhousing, eating at the fountain or wandering just as aimlessly as Riku and I. Being in a totally new place with no real destination in mind, totally silent... it's the closest I've felt to being a runaway since we settled in with Dad, and that knowledge is an unsettling presence tucked way in the back of my mind. 

"Hey, Sora." 

"Hm?" 

"I want to check out this bookstore for a minute, okay?" 

Dumbly taking his word for it, I wait outside for a bit in order to examine a nearby directory. Looks like there's a candy store up here on the third floor, and a toy store, too. I guess that might be kinda fun in a dumb way. Not like we really have anything else to check out, anyway. 

I poke my head into the bookstore to flag Riku down, but at first glance he's nowhere to be found. Weird... Guess that's my cue to search for him myself. I try not to get too distracted as I scan the aisles, looking for that telltale head of silver hair, when I spot him in line at a register tucked into the corner behind a wall of children's books. 

"Hey!" 

Riku jumps at the sound of my voice, whirling around. 

"How long have you been standing there?" he asks. 

I shrug. 

"Just a second." I check my watch, noting with a small jolt of panic that it's 3:45. When did _that_ happen? "Oh, damn. We need to get going soon, it's almost four." 

"Shit," Riku murmurs, anxiously surveying the books in his hand. "I should've gotten in line sooner." 

"It's fine," I assure him. "Look, you're up right now." 

It'd be nice if the cashier would hurry up a bit, though. I swear she's moving at a snail's pace; I can't stop my feet from tapping while we're waiting for her to search for the bar code each time as if it isn't located in the same place on every book. Then she rings one up twice and cancels out the whole order and I'm starting to get really, really impatient. 

Riku shoves a twenty dollar bill her way, not even bothering to count to make sure he got the correct change, which I would bet he didn't. After she all-too-carefully places each of Riku's books into a plastic bag one by one, we're nearing frantic. We're not going to make it in time—I guess it's fine if we're a _little_ late, but I can't ignore the fact that a few minutes after we exit the store and set off, nothing looks familiar. 

"Are we going the right way?" I ask after a few minutes of speed-walking down a corridor and darting through kiosks. 

"I hope so," Riku responds. Yikes; that's not very encouraging. 

"So we're lost," I translate. 

"Yeah." 

Ugh. At least he admits it, I guess. 

"So let's find a directory," I suggest. "I know there was one right outside the bookstore..." 

Riku shakes his head. 

"We'd be backtracking almost ten minutes," he says. "We should go ahead, there'll be another one." I'm not sure what it says that I fall back into my old pattern of trusting Riku blindly to get us where we need to be. But I let him have this one with the shake of my head and a lukewarm affirmation. 

"...Okay." 

We circle around the third story, landing back at the bookstore directory, both painfully aware that it would've been quicker if he'd just listened to me in the first place. I don't say anything. It wouldn't change anything, just make things even tenser. 

It's almost five when we finally find an escalator, and a second escalator, until we're back on the ground floor and trying to find the right exit that will lead us to the restaurant down the block we all agreed to meet at. Even then, we're only completely sure when we spy Dad, Andrew, and Taylor in a huddle outside; Taylor's the one who spots us, waving us down. It's our prompt to hurry, speeding into a near-run until we finally catch up with them. 

"Sorry," I gasp. "I'm so sorry--" 

"Where were you?" Dad asks, arms crossed and staring us down. "I kept calling and you didn't pick up for phone!" 

The cell phone. I didn't even remember... Ugh, I could just kick myself. 

"I'm sorry—I totally forgot, and we got lost--" Dad lets out a heavy sigh and places a hand on my shoulder. I slide my phone out from my pocket, noting that I have four missed calls. Great. "I'm not used to having a phone on me. I'm really sorry." 

"It's okay," he replies. "I was just starting to worry. That's all." 

"Let's just get back in," Aunt Taylor suggests. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving." 

Well, crisis averted, I guess. It's still kinda weird for people to just... get over being mad at me, but it makes me feel that much closer to this side of my family. I don't really hold on to anger or grudges, either. Knowing where parts of my personality have come from gives me a sense of belonging I don't think I've really felt since I was a kid, back when I had two parents and a group of friends to laugh with at our community playground. 

It just makes the pressure that much more to be who they expect me to be. 

At dinner, Dad mentions Sandy, and his work, and millions of other little details that earn him little swats and shoves from Taylor. I guess he hasn't been in touch with his family any longer than I've been... I get that Dad's busy, but I also think you should always make time for the people you love. Maybe he's trying to make up for it now. With his sisters, and with me. 

It's pretty incredible that Taylor doesn't seem mad—just a little exasperated. My own feelings are a little harder to decode, so I just make it all roll off me and let myself be happy to be here. 

* 

It's another early night for us, with the adults settling in at about eight and Riku and I following an hour or so later, after we watch a movie from Andrew's pile of DVDs he lets us use. 

With the TV turned off, the house is unbelievably quiet. It feels weird, only the two of us being up in this full house when it's not even that late. Wandering down the darkened hall, I take a hold of Riku's hand. Weirdly, I miss this the most. Just getting to be casually and easily affectionate with each other in an innocent kind of way. That doesn't mean I say no to the kiss Riku plants on my forehead, one that trails down my face as we pull in close. His elbow, I think, knocks against our door during the little scuffle, making a painful, deep thump sound. 

Suddenly the hall light's on and I have a mini panic attack before realizing it's Dad, peeking in from the next room. So we don’t even need to pull apart, really. Maybe Riku gives me an extra inch of so of space. 

"Everything okay?" he asks. 

"Fine," I tell him. "It was dark, we just bumped into the door." 

"Huh," Dad replies. "Guess the sound traveled strangely, I thought something heavy dropped. Anyway, good night." 

"Good night," we echo, locking lips one last time after he shuts his door. We should _not_ be doing this, but... I just miss it so, so much. Miss him. Miss feeling normal. Besides, everyone's asleep and we deserve this for our good behavior these past few days.

"...Sora? Riku?" 

The voice that calls out to us is most definitely not Dad.

Oh, shit. 

"Hi Aunt Taylor." I try to sound innocent as I slowly pry myself away from Riku, till about a foot or so separates us. I slide my hands into the pockets of my pajama pants, smiling, as if I can just make her forget what I know she saw. My face is hot, but somehow I manage to maintain eye contact until my throat threatens to close. I just swallow the lump down as the silence takes over again. 

"What in the world are you doing?" she asks. Ugh, I can't believe we were so careless. No, that I was careless. We only had one more day and we would have been home free. I'm kicking myself, just trying to keep my face neutral and not give her _anything_ to work with until I can parse her reaction. Then it's just silence, deafening and terrible, and I realize that she's actually waiting for an answer from me. And I can't lie; I promised myself before we left, that I wouldn't lie if asked. And besides, there's not a single cover story in the world that would convince her that our kiss was just guys being guys.

"I'm gay," I tell her, indirectly answering her question. Just like that, I hear it come out of me. Her eyes are wide, and somewhere behind her Andrew groggily asks what's going on. "I'm gay," I say again, quietly. Riku inches closer to me, places a hand on my shoulder and lets it drop. 

"Sora," he says, but the thought never materializes. 

Andrew shuffles out the door, and then Dad's wondering what the commotion is, and it's just a massive mess, full of stuttered explanations: What Taylor thought she saw, what I confirmed, what Dad already knew, what Andrew hadn't guessed. We separate in a flurry of awkward dismissals, the adults agreeing that Riku and I should go to bed, and the dread in my stomach blooms into panic the second we close the door. 

Everyone knows now... and I can't stand not knowing what's going to happen. I can't sleep with it left like this. 

I crawl out of bed with a quick explanation when Riku asks where I'm going and creep down the hall, my heart thundering in my chest. Taylor's hushed voice floats in from the kitchen, serious and chastising. 

"You know they're a couple and you let them sleep in the same bed?" 

Dad shrugs helplessly. "They've been through some of the most traumatic experiences I can even imagine, Taylor. If being together brings them comfort, I'm not going to tell them they can't share a room _or_ a bed. I trust them to make the right decisions." 

"Mike... you don't even know them. Not really." 

Dad lets out a long breath; my heart drops. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I never wanted them to fight over us... over me. 

"What's the worst that's going to happen? They'll have sex?" I cringe. "We can't pretend we weren't getting up to anything when we were their age." 

"They're so young. They're just so young." 

"Too young," Dad agrees softly, and for a moment they're silent. 

"...Now that he's got his father back," Andrew suggests very, very tentatively. "This thing with Sora might... straighten itself out. I mean, so to speak." 

My blood boils. 

Dad sounds more hostile than I've ever heard him as he strikes back, his anger coming out in a tightly controlled way so unlike Mom's. "It has nothing to do with upbringing. It's how he was born and a part of who he is." 

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Taylor asks. "Why not tell us sooner?" 

"I just wanted Sora and Riku to have the choice of coming out only if they wanted to. Besides..." He pauses there. "I wasn't sure how well it would go over. If they would be accepted." I can't see Taylor's face, but it causes Dad to add, "...I know." 

"Are your palms bleeding? Because you're being a martyr." For the first time in this conversation, her tone lightens. "We have the same parents, Mike. And we were always taught that family comes first. Sora is my blood, too. He's your son—nothing will ever change that. Now, I may not completely understand right now, but I'll learn. If you let us into his life, he'll teach me." 

I take one step out further, willing the lump in my throat to dissolve and the tears to disappear back to wherever they just came from. It gives me prime view of Andrew shaking his head incredulously, like he just can't believe what's going on. 

"You won't have to learn anything, Taylor," he says. "They'll grow out of it once they start meeting more girls their age. They're just young." 

"...Sora?" Dad asks, jolting me nearly out of my socks. I take a step out further, feeling very, very caught. 

"...hi..." I mumble sheepishly, barely able to look at any of these people in the face. "Couldn't sleep..." 

The room is deathly quiet; I know they're all nervous about what I might have heard or not heard. 

"Well," Taylor says finally. "That won't do. Here, I'll get some tea started for you. Chamomile or mint?" 

I shrug; nothing comes out of my throat. And when she hugs me, it's all over: the floodgates open, and I'm sobbing into her shoulder, helpless and scared. I just feel naked, having them know, having them find out the way they did. Knowing that they speculate about my sexuality, my relationship, my sex life. 

"Sora..." Dad throws his arms around me from behind, which makes me cry even harder. 

"I'll make your tea. Mike, Andrew—go set up in the living room, I'll bring it out in a sec." 

Sniffling, I let Dad lead me into the other room with a hand still on my back. My tears came out in a big burst, but I think I'm done now. So when Taylor places a hot mug into my hands, I'm a little steadier. Still burn my tongue on the hot water, though. Chamomile. Honestly, I'd way rather be drinking coffee, even though it would just get me all wired. 

"I'm guessing you heard our conversation," Dad says from next to me. 

"Just a little," I tell him. I don't even know where to start... I just know I need to defend myself--and Riku. "Riku and I haven't done anything we aren't supposed to be doing. We're just. We've slept next to each other since the day we met. Nothing else feels right." 

"I know," Dad responds. With a gentle hand, he strokes a piece of hair back in place but I move away. 

"I think we have a lot to talk about," Aunt Taylor pitches in. "Sora... do you feel comfortable just... giving us a little more to work off of?" I nod miserably, clutching my mug tighter. 

"I only came out a few months ago. This is still really new to me. I always felt different, but I met Riku and everything made a lot more sense." My eyes flick up toward Andrew, who's sitting on the opposite couch, looking uncomfortable. "This is who I am now. Or, I mean, it's who I've been. I'm still getting used to it. And Riku is... he's always had my back. I never feel ashamed when I'm around him." 

"You have nothing—nothing—to be ashamed of, Sora," Dad says firmly. I nod in acknowledgment, but not agreement. I don't think I'm there yet. Not right now, at least.

"Riku," Taylor mumbles, glancing off somewhere behind her. For a moment I think he's about to emerge next, but I think she was just lost in thought for a second there. 

"He's a good person," I say, ready to defend him at all costs. "He saved my life. That's how we met... my first night out, I was attacked. He saved my life, and we've taken care of each other ever since." I eye Andrew for just a moment, waiting for an argument that never comes. "At first we were just traveling together. Safety in numbers, or something. I was healing, and I think he just didn't want me to end up getting sick. And then we just started feeling... a lot of things about each other over the months we were together." 

It sounds so simple when I say it out loud. I wish I could make them see, make them understand what it was like to be out there, hurt and so bored all the time. And pining, being confused, hating myself. Pining more. Not knowing what was going to happen. Maybe that was the worst part, the not knowing. 

"I danced with another boy at homecoming," I add, and I don't really know why. Maybe to prove that Riku isn't a one-shot deal. Maybe to prove it to myself. I've been calling myself gay all this time but... I think it's only really starting to sink in. But it is getting easier, still. "Riku didn't want to dance, so a classmate asked, and Riku gave it the okay. I couldn't really picture myself wanting to dance with any of the girls. Well, except my friend Kairi, but that felt different. It wasn't like being with the other boys." 

Andrew shifts uncomfortably, but Taylor and Dad just nod in understanding. They get it. And they're the ones who matter most. 

Well, at the end, I think I'm the one who matters most. It's my opinion of myself that I carry with me everywhere. But... the approval helps. 

* 

Our final morning before setting out, Riku wakes me with a kiss. Grinning, I wrap my arms around him, soaking his warmth. I feel oddly freer, even though we're still guarded by a closed door. Mind still whirring from last night, I take a little longer to get ready than usual, and I find myself dawdling until Riku's ready to go for breakfast. I just need to face this morning with my guy by me. We tackle our walk down the hall slowly, giving us enough time to talk a little before seeing my family. 

"How'd your talk go?" Riku asks. I shrug. 

"They seem okay with us," I tell him. 

"Sorry I didn't come out to support you. I didn't know if that would make things worse." 

"It's probably best that I talked to them alone." 

"And are you okay?" Riku asks. That one takes me a little longer. 

"...Yeah. I'm glad we don't have to hide anymore." He plants a kiss on the top of my head as we walk into the kitchen, and I'm more than okay with it. Dad doesn't even bat an eye, used to our small displays of affection at this point, and Taylor just offers us a smile and two plates for our breakfast. 

Everyone's noticeably subdued today. It's an easy morning and a lazy afternoon where we all just hang out, catching movies or playing cards. I guess it's only a matter of time until I'm trapped alone with Andrew, but I didn't want to tag along on Dad and Taylor's walk outside, and Riku's in the shower. 

So. Here we are. 

I'm drinking a glass of water in the living room, wandering a little aimlessly when it happens; Andrew's fussing around with some wires sticking out of the TV, since we got a blurry picture a couple times this morning. 

"I guess you're good at fixing things, huh?" I ask, watching the screen go from black and white static to a crisper, color image. I don't know. I just say it. 

"I don't know," he responds. "I guess." 

Okay. 

"What kind of stuff do you do for a living?" I ask next. 

"Between jobs," he grunts as he reaches for a far wire that's slipped out of his grip. My hand and arm are just small enough to reach, so I fish it out from between the wall and the TV for him. 

"Oh, cool." I don't know why I say that, either. "So, how long have you and Aunt Taylor been together?" 

"Three years. About three years." 

"Are you going to get married?" 

He falls back onto his heels, looking positively startled. "I don't know, maybe." 

"How'd you meet?" 

I catch what might be a tiny, unconscious smile as he begins tucking cords back into place, organizing and decluttering. 

"I was standing in a long line in the grocery store and Taylor was behind me. She struck up a conversation, and by the time I was checked out we had date set for that Friday." 

"That's awesome," I reply sincerely. "Sometimes you just click with someone." I shrug a little helplessly, taking a seat on the carpet. "That's not how it was for Riku and me. We happened so slowly I'm not really sure when things even changed for us." 

"Well, you had a lot to deal with." 

"Yeah." 

"It's good you have a friend to see you through. A partner, I mean." I clamp down on a nervous little grin. He's getting there. He's getting closer. Maybe Dad was right... I really think this guy doesn't mean me any harm, he just doesn't know any better. 

"A boyfriend," I correct him gently. I think it's just gonna help for him to hear it until he really gets it. "It is good. I'm lucky." 

"We're both lucky," I think, I _think_ I hear Andrew say as he rises back to his feet and hikes up his jeans. By the time he heads outside to catch up with Taylor and my dad, I'm almost breathless with relief. 

That went well. That went kind of well. 

* 

We pack up in the evening and set out early the next morning; Riku seems quiet, quieter than usual, but maybe he's just going through the same stuff I am: sad that vacation's over and we go back to school tomorrow, a little homesick and missing our bed, and not looking forward to another eight-hour car ride. So I just leave him alone and spend hours on end talking to dad, playing games, snacking. 

I remember Taylor's big, warm hug was we walked out the door and the way Andrew gave me a friendly slap on the back, how they wished us a good trip and to be in touch. Taylor calling me _love_ again, and telling Riku she was so, so happy to meet him. 

We belong. 

Sure, there's Christmas to worry about, too—meeting the rest of the extended family and hoping nothing goes too wrong—but in a big way... this feels like the last big hurdle. My classmates accept me, my family accepts me. And when we get back home, I'm giving Riku the biggest kiss in the world. 

The ride is smoother this time, probably helped out by the fact that Riku spends most of it sleeping this time around. As we hit the Okeanos city limits, in the late evening, we swing by a fast food place and eat in the car, meaning that when we get home finally all we need to do is work our way upstairs and crash. I do so happily, asleep the second my head touches the pillow, still dressed in my day clothes. 

Come Monday morning we're all still beat, so Dad takes pity on us and lets us stay home from school. I'm grateful, but that's outweighed by my total exhaustion. I'm pretty sure I'm coming down with something, so I'll definitely need at least a day to recover. 

I flop onto my side, nestling against Riku, who doesn't respond. 

"Riku?" I ask groggily. 

"...I think we need to spend a little time apart," Riku says, voice low and level. 

"What?" I respond, slow to comprehend. "Yeah, okay. Should I meet you after lunch then?" 

"No, Sora. I mean... I want—no, I think we should take a break. From our relationship." 

"What?" It comes out flatter the second time, his words waking me fully. "Why, what's wrong? What's the matter?" 

"Nothing's wrong," he says. "It isn't... it's not you, or anything you've done. I just need to step back for a little while and figure things out." 

"What's there to figure out? Riku... what's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong," Riku repeats. 

Two sentences and he pulls the rug out from under me; it's like everything I knew was wrong, that sense of security I had was all a mistake. 

"Riku," I mumble, voice watery, as he rises from the bed and walks away, sparing me a sad little look before he leaves the room.


	18. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku sticks to a plan.

So, I didn't leave before the trip to meet Sora's aunt. Obviously. I don't know why. I just... didn't. A part of me really, really thought I would, but then I got caught up with homework, and I had a massive project due... and I sat around making excuses and believing them until I realized what was happening. 

And now... I can't even look Sora in the eye. 

Which is fitting, I guess, since he'll barely speak to me. 

I'm sure this must seem sudden to him. It's anything but; this has been coming for a long time, since I knew I had to leave him back when we were on the streets, since I knew that I was beginning to experience feelings for him that were strong and frequently—constantly—indecipherable. 

There are so many things I need to reevaluate, and my relationship with Sora is the biggest, so it has to be the first. And in order to do that, I need to take a step back. I need space, I need to try and look at everything objectively, to determine if I'm sitting back and ruining both of our lives. If Sora moves on, if he doesn't want to get together again, I'll know what we had wasn't real... and then maybe I should go. If he finds something better, I'll know for sure that I've only been holding him back. And it makes me sick, all of this does, but it's what has to be done. 

If Sora really does want me after this... if he never realizes he can do better... I don't know what I'll do. I guess it's just a hard thought to entertain. It's kind of a joke, really. It's all a bit of a joke. 

\

Our free Monday is tense and quiet. Sora barely gets out of bed in the morning, and when he does, he's tired and sluggish, dragging his limbs when he walks like there's a heaviness to them he can't quite accommodate. He sneezes and coughs, his eyes water, his skin looks pallid and pale--and I picked a really, really bad time to do this to him. 

"Here," I plead, watching him slowly dig through cabinets of food in the kitchen. "Sora, just—settle on the couch, I'll make something for you." 

"I got it," he says, muffled words followed by a massive sniffle. 

"Do you want me to run to the store for medicine?" 

He shakes his head. "Nah, I think Dad has some." 

"Can I--" 

Sora speaks over me, voice unwavering. "I'd really like to be left alone right now." 

...Right. 

Right. 

I don't even nod my acknowledgment as he begins to throw a meager meal together. I just leave him be.

\ 

Sora gets more irate every time I go upstairs to check on him. That seems to be the theme of the day. 

My first trip is to see if he's still awake, if he needs anything, and he shoos me off with another promise that he already has everything. 

My second trip is to see if he's feverish, but he doesn't let me close enough to check. 

My third trip is to bring up some water from the kitchen downstairs, but I'm met with a tossed pillow when I open the door. 

The closest I get to him is during dinner, when he comes downstairs and dozes, curled up on a plush chair in the living room. I throw a blanket over him and deliver his soup when he's ready, pressing the hot cup into his hands and treasuring the little "thank you" I receive in return for doing the bare minimum. 

Busy with work, Mr. Hart eats in front of his laptop at my insistence that it's okay with me. We eat a simple meal of grilled cheese and leftover soup, the tapping of fingers on a keyboard filling my ear as I stare at Sora from the dining room table, silently relieved every time he tilts the mug to his mouth and drinks. In my mind, I urge him to be safe, to be strong, to be healthy. 

In the evening I wait until I know he'll be asleep, and quietly I sneak into his room to pull my school supplies and a change of clothes from the drawer. I guess I wouldn't be sleeping upstairs with him sick regardless of the status of our relationship, our non-relationship. So I try not to think too much of it when I take back the room lent to me our first day here, in the guest room across from the entry, and stare up at the ceiling until sleep takes me. 

I forgot what it feels like to sleep alone. Forgot how warm Sora keeps me at night. 

But that's okay. It isn't anything an extra blanket can't fix. 

\ 

I travel to school alone. At first, it's strange--but not so bad. Sora calls out of classes a second time while he recovers, so his absence feels more natural. I collect assignments from his teachers at the end of the day, which he regards with a dismissive "great" before shutting the bedroom door. 

By Thursday he's back, but we're riding different buses. 

I don't claim to be an expert on human behavior, but that's a pretty clear "fuck off" if I've ever seen one. And I've seen more than one. 

As far as our makeshift divorce proceedings go, Sora keeps the friends and the lunch spot, which I can live with seeing as they were never mine to begin with. Maybe it's lucky I have a massive test on Monday in my worst class, because it's an excuse to be eating alone with a textbook open when Kairi tracks me down. 

"Hey, Riku!" she says, her cheer never totally convincing, like she doesn't know what to make of me. "You and Sora are usually the first ones at our place! Why aren't you eating with us?" 

I glance back to what I can see of our shady tree, noting that Sora's just now sitting down, tray of food in hand, and engaging with Tidus in conversation. I just... try my best not to think anything of it. One thing's clear, though: Sora hasn't told anyone about us yet. Maybe he just hasn't gotten the chance, but... it'd be like him, to pretend that everything's fine. So I'll keep my mouth shut, too. 

"I have to study," I tell her. At least she lets it go at that, retreating without a fight as she returns to her rightful place in the group. Not that it'd be worth the fight to get me to join them, no matter how Sora was starting to trick me into believing otherwise. Not like I wanted an argument, a scene. Or. I don't know. 

I don't know what I want. 

What I do know is that I'm alone again, not sure where I fit again, reading and writing in hopes that it's a signal not to talk to me again. No matter how hard I pull away, the universe always wants to bring me right back to where I started. 

\ 

After school there's no second bus to catch, not for hours, so it looks like Sora and I are stuck together. Sora lingers in the back of the crowd, not purposely avoiding me--there aren't enough people here for him to be able to hide, anyway-- but not trying to find me, either. I interpret his indifference a million different ways, but it doesn't leave me with anything satisfying or usable. 

I watch him as he shifts around, plays with the zipper on his backpack, stares out the window. I watch the way his hair moves when he turns his head, the way he sidesteps so other people will have more space. His soft hands gripping a pole, feet spaced far enough to brace him should we make a sudden stop. And I miss him, which is stupid, because I'm the one who did this. 

At our stop, I wait everyone else to file out before moving. I hate the squeezing and shoving that comes with trying to be first out, so I never try. I wait for the line to wane, I wait for someone in particular. When Sora files past, that's my cue to go, too, to scoop up my backpack and stand, waiting for an opening in the crowd. The last thing I need is to miss my stop and end up who-the-fuck-knows where. 

Held up briefly by someone I can't see, I shove my hands in my pockets and wait it out. This I could do without. This whole public transport thing. All this noise. All these people. 

"Whoa!" 

Sora's voice, quiet as it is, cuts through the crowd like he's next to me. I look up just in time to watch as his shoe catches the edge of the step down, throwing him off balance. Unthinking, I lean forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. That elicits another yelp of surprise from him, but at least when he looks up and sees me there, his look is one of relief. Maybe a little exasperation. 

"Thanks," he says sheepishly as I gently loosen my grip, sliding my hand back into my pocket. 

"It's nothing," I reply. 

Our walk from the bus stop is quiet, but maybe something approaching comfortable. 

\ 

It's another restless night for me, but what else is new. I end up crashing at eight, just after dinner, a bit sluggish myself. I hope I don't end up with whatever Sora caught, but just being tired for no reason isn't that much better, really, so maybe it's better to have the excuse and a promise that I'll feel more alert in a week. 

During my few hours of sleep my dreams are vivid, but at the same time they never really seem to materialize. In my subconscious, it's just colors and shapes and feeling. I see tan skin and dark hair, and a big smile, too big, and I wake up with this hurt deep in my gut. 

At four in the morning I'm wide awake. Feels like a punishment for going to bed so early... or maybe it's a little disheartening that I've been two nights Sora-free and my sleep schedule is already a mess again. 

I lay in bed till I finally drift back into something resembling sleep again close to six, feeling jittery and out of sorts for reasons I can't totally place. All I can do is hope that it's nothing but the late hour and my sudden solitude. 

When my alarm sounds at six-thirty I'm more awake than I thought I'd be, but still slower than I'd be on a good day. Still, I drag my sorry, tired ass out of bed and shower, dress, eat. It's easier to do here feeling vaguely sick than it was in Darry when I was perfectly well, so that's an improvement, at least. And the day gets easier to face every time I remind myself that I'm not afraid to leave the house. 

Stomach settling with every step as I walk to the kitchen, I whip up a quick vegetable scramble and leave a box of cereal out for Sora to snack on before heading out. It's weird for the house to be this quiet at this time. Usually Mr. Hart is already down and eating toast or oatmeal, a book in hand, waiting to see Sora—and by extension, me—off for the day, so I'm wondering if he left early or overslept. Either way, I'm not going to complain about having the house to myself for a little while. 

Sora's down next, about ten minutes later. I always hear him before I see him, his firm, quick steps down the stairs. The past few days he's been additionally heralded by a thick, ugly cough—today's no different, cough included, and although it sounds worse than ever, I know that's really a sign that he's getting better. 

I'm not expecting much from him, which is why his little, "Hey," is such a surprise. Honestly, it feels like a lifeline. I hate when he's mad at me, and I know he is, and I know I can't blame him, which makes this shitty situation all the worse. 

"Oh, thanks," he says next, grabbing the cereal and taking a handful dry, popping the pieces into his mouth one at a time. 

"It's nothing," I tell him, but maybe it isn't. See, Sora? I haven't disowned you, I still pay attention. I still know you. "We should probably head out now if we want to catch the bus," I prompt gently, finishing the last forkful of diced carrot and rinsing off my plate with hot, soapy water. 

"Dad's gonna give me a lift again today," Sora responds with a shrug a little too casual for my liking. My brows furrow; it happens before I can stop it, but luckily I've smoothed my face into a more neutral expression before he sees. "He thought it made sense, since I've been sick and everything." 

"Right." 

I can feel him watch me, but I don't let on. I scoop up my backpack from its place on the ground, only faltering for a moment when he says, "...if you don't want to leave so early, you could catch a ride with us." 

"...Thanks. But--" 

"Yeah, I know." 

I open my mouth to speak, to tell him he doesn't know, but in the end I just shoulder my bag and walk out the door. 

\ 

Classes aren't bad today. They're never bad, which is something I'm not sure I'll ever be fully used to. People generally leave me alone, which is all I really want, anyway, and my teachers seem to like me well enough. It's not like things are perfect—they never are—but I can't really ask for much more than this. It's all I really wanted for a long time... which probably says a lot about my goals. I guess when you've been beaten down for so long, it's hard to dream big. 

So this works. Maybe it's the one thing that's really working right now, but that's more than it's been in the past. 

Sometimes Mr. Hart still gives me a little nudge to see if I'm making friends, only partially assuaged that, at some point, I was at least tangentially involved with Sora's group. But I like being alone. Talking when I have nothing to say exhausts me—people exhaust me-- and when the bell rings, sneaking off with a book or notepad and something to eat is something I look forward to. 

The more time passes, the more I get the feeling I might have something to lose if I leave, and that's why I'm so determined to figure out what I should do. I already feel Sora's loss every day, even though we still see each other all the time. I can't really decode what it all means yet. It's like looking through a foggy mirror—the full picture is right in front of me, but it's indecipherable. And it might not always be; I just can't make it out yet. 

I wish I was the kind of person who could just sit back and let time tell me everything I need to know. 

I mean, I guess I could stay. Finish high school, see if any college will take me. See how long Sora will stay if he still wants me after this. Live in suspense until eighteen, wondering if I'll run into someone who knows I'm a runaway, who would turn me in. Live in fear of the cops for the rest of my life. Get a job I don't hate, shack up in apartment somewhere in the city. Retire. Die. 

Or I'll finish high school alone, pretending not to care when Sora starts dating again. Pretending to be happy when he settles down with someone new. See if a college will take me halfway across the country so I can run from the pain. Get a job and transfer and get a job and transfer, rootless, running forever and hoping I never find out the name of Sora's new boyfriend, Sora's spouse. Move to another country. Change my name. Disappear, unmissed, my only tether gone. 

Watch how fast our so-called mutual friends drop me when they realize Sora and I aren't together anymore. 

See if his dad even wants me in the house anymore after I've stopped meaning anything to his son. 

Right. 

If I leave now, or before too much longer... who knows. Somehow the stakes feel lower. Everyone here just kind of... forgets about me and I move on until I can't move anymore. Somehow the total unknown is easier for me to deal with than the anxiety of minute uncertainties. Just confirms what I know in my gut: I was never meant to have a normal life. 

But if there's even a question, that means I don't want to go, right? 

But if there's even a question, that means I don't want to stay, right? 

\ 

"Riku?" 

It's Kairi again. 

If she doesn't know what to make of me, then I definitely don't know what to make of her. We have no shared classes, so I don't have the kind of casual, tentative back-and-forth with her that I do with Selphie, and the only thing we really seem to have in common is Sora. And look how that's turning out. 

"I heard about what happened." 

Great. 

"Oh," I say. Which just about sums it all up, doesn't it. I look up at her as long as I can stand to, watching her watch me, her dark blue-violet eyes unyielding. 

"I don't think anyone else knows right now, so I won't say anything. But just... let me know if you need anything, okay?" 

She touches my hand, and I don't even know why I don't pull away right then and there. I'm not totally sure what to think of it all, except that it means Sora has a new confidant. Somehow that's worse than if he'd just gone around telling everyone everything. 

"Also," she adds. "You should know that we all like you both, and no one is going to pick sides." 

I swallow hard, never even considering that may be an issue; they're Sora's friends, not mine. And anyway, they're not really the ones I'm worried about. 

"I just need Sora to not be mad at me," I tell her. I don't know why I do that, either: it just bursts out of me like a volcano overdue for an eruption. Maybe I'm just relieved she isn't interrogating me, asking why I hurt him. 

"He isn't mad at you, Riku, he's just--" 

"Watch it!" 

We both jump, suddenly distracted by an angry, distant yell. As I turn to see what's happened, I spot Tidus, I think, in the midst of it all, getting into it with an upperclassman over something Kairi and I completely missed in the midst of our conversation. We exchange a quick glance, and while I can't presume to know what's going on in her mind, I'm debating whether to keep an eye on the situation or just ignore it. 

Sora joins the fray, which at least answers that question. They're talking about something I can't catch from this far, and when the guy shoves Sora with both hands, I'm standing before I even think to. She follows me as I move, my long strides matched by her short, quick ones. And we're plotting. 

"Don't hurt him," Kairi says. Least she's smart enough to know I'm not just going to let this stand, whatever's going on. 

"I won't hurt him. I'm going to pound his face in, and it'll be over so fast he won't even realize he's in pain." 

"Don't do anything extreme, Riku," she implores. "Don't get yourself in trouble over this. Just... be intimidating." 

That I can do. 

It's a quick walk to get to the usual lunch spot, tension in the air almost tangible while everyone waits for someone else to act. Tidus and Wakka are together with Sora in almost a huddle, close to this unwanted classmate as they argue over something I have no context to understand. Selphie stands nearly three feet back, hands to her mouth, quickly joined by Kairi. 

And then there's me. 

"Hey. Leave them alone," I say, knowing it won't be that easy. 

"Get bent," the intruder snarls, giving me a moment's glance before he's back in Sora's face. 

Nothing goes through my mind, no sense of rational thought or logic. I'm just grabbing him and whirling him toward me, heart in my throat and a pounding in my ears, feeling this close to a fight for my life. 

"What's your problem?" he asks, face red. 

"You are. Leave them alone." 

"We're just talking, man." 

"Riku," Sora barks. "Just stay out of--" I hear him gasp and Kairi cry out before I realize what's just happened. 

He slugged me. 

I catch the phrase "couple of fags" come from his mouth next and Sora steps forward, now standing toe to toe with him, face intense, eyes a little shiny. For being just barely over five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds, he looks tough. But whether he's strong enough to take someone a head and a half taller and easily twice his weight... 

And, I mean. He punched me, he's looking to start something with me, which is a fucking mistake if I've ever seen one. I don't turn the other cheek.

I essentially fire a warning shot, a fist to the jaw that sends him stumbling but not sprawling. I curl my fingers in tighter, breath catching in my throat. My knuckles throb. I forgot what that felt like, the sick give of another person's flesh and the stiffness of bone under my hand. 

He lunges for me, but I duck out of the way, as if I don't know the way other boys fight, in school yards or on the streets, fists raised, clumsy. Maybe I let him get another swing in out of pity, maybe a sick part of me just wants the permission, an excuse, to wail on him, as if harassing Sora wasn't enough, as if I'd let anyone even think they can hurt him whether we're dating or not. 

Heart pumps blood into my ears, deafening me to some distant call of "stop, don't do this", but it's too late—I've snapped into survival mode, landing blows until he isn't hitting back, he isn't hitting back—he isn't—shit. 

He isn't hitting back. 

Bile rises into my throat.

I really hope I didn't just murder him. 

I jolt back, breathing hard, feeling like I've just had an out of body experience. Bloodied hands drop limply and heavily to my sides, and when I look up, the crowd our scene has drawn seems to pull into itself, and no one can quite meet my eye. I scan for Sora, the only one who matters, and his gaze is fixed on the ground, his face is red up to the tips of his ears. He's still, tense, shaking off Tidus and Kairi both when they try to talk to him. Not once does he look at me. 

Taking another small step back, I survey my own damage, this guy I've never even seen before, whose name I don't even know, slowly pushing himself to his feet and taking a single, dizzy step forward. 

I let out a breath of some sort of twisted relief. He's okay. Just bloodied and bruised, and that's not really the worst thing a person can ever be. 

Flexing my fingers I realize that I'm okay too, except for the campus supervisors who arrive too late, yelling instructions at each other and at us as they rush over, dispersing the crowd and leading our entire group to the front office, the aggressor to the nurse. 

Well, I guess I'm the aggressor this time, but damned if he didn't deserve it. 

We walk in what feels like a line-up, myself, Sora and Kairi, Selphie, Wakka and Tidus, students parting as we pass, giving us all a wide berth. 

It's funny, how quickly I remember what it feels like, ignoring stares and murmurs. 

It still feels awful. 

We cluster as we reach the office building, the six of us, none of us speaking. The whole time, I try not to notice the way Sora and Kairi cling to each other. It's actually easier than it should be, given that my ears are being filled by the sound of Selphie's sobs. Maybe that's the worst part of this whole thing... I never meant to make her cry. Never meant to make things worse. But here we are. 

We wait in the office until, one by one, we're questioned and dismissed by the same adult who broke up the fight. Selphie goes first, then Kairi, who asks to stay and share our side of the story until she's shooed away. She and Sora share a look before she goes, and I bite down on a surge of jealousy. Wakka's declared innocent next, and leaves with a "good luck, everyone." After a long deliberation, Tidus walks free. 

That just leaves Sora and I. Of course this would happen. 

The two of us are led to the principal with a certain amount of grimness. I'd love to comfort Sora, but he seems to be taking this dutifully, and anyway, I was the one who got us all into this mess so I don't really have the right. 

We take the seats set up for us, the two of us rigid on these plastic chairs, both hyperaware of the third placed between us. 

"Care to explain what happened today?" the principal asks, regarding us both calmly... for now. I'm not as on-edge as I thought I'd be, honestly. Helps not having the perpetrator in the room. Helps not knowing with absolute certainty that they'll take his side no matter what. 

Or am I the perpetrator now? 

"My friend and I were coming back from the cafeteria when he accidentally bumped someone." Sora's the first to speak up, voice unwavering, arms crossed against his chest. "The guy followed us back to our lunch spot, yelling at us and stuff. I kind of think he wanted to pick a fight." 

He nods, face unreadable, patient.

"That may be true, but it's not an excuse to engage. You should have ignored him, or gotten an adult." 

Inwardly, I'm bristling. Adults are useless. Ignoring bullies won't make them go away. Fighting back does. 

"They didn't start the fight," I pitch in. "I did. No one asked me to get involved, but when I saw what was happening... I was hoping I could just scare him off. But then he punched me, and... I punched back. Sora didn't do anything but tell me to stop." 

"I would've hit him if I had the chance," Sora replies darkly. "He called me... us..." 

I hear it in my head again. Couple of faggots. To Sora, it must feel like a raw wound ripped open. 

If Sora even planned to finish the thought, the principal more or less does the job for him. 

"You don't have to say it. Did he use a slur?" 

Sora nods, just one tear escaping I wouldn't have even noticed if I didn't see the motion of his hand wiping it away. I want to touch him. I want to do something. But it's too late for that now. 

The principal subtly pushes a box of tissues across his desk, but Sora doesn't take one. 

"I've called your father, and he'll be arriving shortly." Sora's face contorts for a second, almost. But he doesn't cry. 

I'm so proud of him, and I have absolutely no right to be. 

\  
One awkward conversation later and we get off with a detention and a warning, and a promise that Okeanos High has a zero-tolerance bullying policy. I have to fight to keep my face neutral from the moment he says it to the moment I walk out the door, at which point I can finally release the massive scoff I've been holding in. 

Zero tolerance. Right. I've heard that before... it just means that bullying goes ignored. After all, if there's no bullying, they never have to step it up and enact any of those punishments they seem to be so fond of touting. Or they can just blame the victims for stirring the pot. Or asking for it. 

I guess we'll see if anything comes out of this. 

All eyes are on me when I enter fourth period, forty minutes late. I just do my best to shake it off as I take my normal seat, dropping into the chair more heavily than I meant as I nudge my backpack under the desk. 

"Hey..." some kid whispers to me when the teacher's back is turned. "So, I heard you beat the shit out of someone at lunch." 

"You heard right," I whisper in return. His eyes go wide. 

"Whoa." 

"Yeah." 

"Whoa," he says again, facing the front of the room again as the lecture continues. 

I mean, at least someone seems to think it's cool, because Sora just gives me hell when I bump into him during our next passing period. 

"That was stupid, what you did," he says, eyes only flickering up to meet mine for a moment before he stares back into his locker, his hand gripping one of the shallow shelves. "You could have gotten into a lot of trouble. We're really lucky we didn't get suspended." 

I wait for him to look at me before defending myself, only continuing when it becomes clear that he can still barely face me. 

"I just wanted to help," I tell him, voice low to prevent any passersby from hearing more of our fight, not-fight than they should. "I didn't think it would go as far as it did." 

"You didn't have to. You shouldn't have." 

"I wanted to," I repeat. 

"I can take care of myself," he responds shortly. I can't help but wonder if that's really what this is about. Not wanting to feel handled, defended. Helpless. 

"I know, but you shouldn't have to." 

His head tilts, eyes squinting as he stares at me. 

"You're the one who broke up with me," he murmurs, voice dropping lower than mine. 

I stare right back at him. 

"It doesn't mean I don't care about you," I tell him. 

He must start three different sentences at once before finally shaking his head and turning from me. 

"Except that you keep doing this to me," he says, walking away until he's out of my sight. 

He says it like I haven't already realized it, like I don't already know.


	19. Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Soriku week!

Week one of my very sudden singlehood is almost over, and it still doesn't make any sense to me. I guess I forgot how little I ever know what's going on in Riku's head. How little he confides in me. He's unpredictable, always has been, so I don't know why it never occurred to me that Riku might end up having trouble committing. 

We're still avoiding each other over the weekend, which doesn’t exactly bode well. I don't know what I expect to happen, though. It's not like we were going to jump out of a relationship and into being best friends or whatever. It doesn't help that I think a little part of me is still mad. Or... I don't know. I don't even know if I've been mad through this whole thing. I just hurt, and I'm confused, and I really don't know what I did wrong, or if Riku just... lost interest and there's nothing I can do. 

I don't even know for sure if we're broken up. He said he wants to be on a break, but does that still imply that we're exclusive? Or am I gonna look up one day to realize he's found someone new? Should I be dating now, or at least thinking about it? 

It's all such a mess, and as much as I really don't want to, I know the only way I'm gonna get this figured out is to just sit down and talk to him. 

So... here goes nothing. 

I wait until lunch on Sunday, when Riku's lazing around outside at the patio table, a textbook spread in front of him. I dismiss the nagging feeling in my gut telling me to let him study, 'cause I know it's just fear talking, that there's a part of me still nervous about what I'll find out. I just... need to know if I should get used to sleeping alone at night. 

"Hey, Riku." I greet him gently, sliding the glass door shut behind me as I take my first tentative steps into the backyard. 

"...Hey," he replies, watching me closely as I pull up a chair across from him, his eyes following my hands, my arms. 

"Can we talk?" 

Riku hesitates, eyeing his book before shutting it, stacking his notebooks on top and pushing the pile aside. 

"Okay." He says it quietly, still looking like he'd rather be anywhere other than here, having this conversation. Well, least we're on the same page. 

"What's going on?" I ask, swallowing hard. "Are we getting back together, or are we broken up?" 

"...I don't know," he responds, no longer looking at me at all. 

Okay. Next question. 

"Why are we doing this? Why don't you want to be with me right now?" 

Riku shifts, meeting my eyes for a brief moment before letting out a deep, measured breath. 

"I have a lot going on right now," he says evenly. "And so do you. I just need time to take a step back and reevaluate things." 

"What things?" I shoot back. 

"Everything." Swallowing hard, I turn away--but I don't break my stare. "I hadn't planned for any of this to happen. This isn't what I wanted or expected when I ran away, and I don't know if it's what I want now." He shrugs, looking up at me as if to say, 'Happy now?' 

I don't know why, but I wasn't expecting that. I thought things were getting better for him. He's doing really well in school, and we have great friends... he and Dad are a little more comfortable around each other... he even went up to the mountains to visit my family with us! He's such a big part of our lives. I don't get how he doesn't see what I see. 

"...You don't know if you want me," I translate. He sighs heavily this time, looking pained. 

"It's not about you, Sora. It's not always about you." 

I let out a loud snort without meaning to, but whatever. I can't believe he can look me in the eye and say that, as if I'm not the one who's always looking out for him, caring about him, trusting him. In fact, he can't. He wasn't looking me in the eye. He hasn't looked at me since I walked up to him, and it makes me want to shake him. He hasn't looked at me for days. 

"Yeah, but you can't act like this doesn't affect me, Riku." 

He pulls his heels up on to the seat, knees to his chest. "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense right now. It doesn't make sense to me, and that's exactly why I need to pull back. I just want to do what's best for both of us... I'm not trying to hurt you." 

"I don't think you're trying to hurt me," I reply. "But it still hurts, and that's where things are right now. We're not speaking, and we hurt." He opens his mouth; I cut him off. "Am I wrong?" 

"...You're not wrong." 

"I wish I knew for sure why you think you need to pull back... and... why you always seem to think we're better off apart. Why you think you're protecting me when you do stuff like this. And I wish I knew that, if you didn't want to be my boyfriend, if you didn't like it... We could still be friends. You and I are always gonna be linked together, with everything we've been through. And everything we've been through together." 

Riku stands suddenly, pushing back his chair and grabbing his things. 

"I need another day or two," he says. "I'll try to have some kind of solution in mind by then." I just shrug in return, not any more sure where that leaves us than I was at the beginning of our talk. He says solution, like we're a problem to be solved. Before I can ruminate on it too much, I catch one more sentence from him as he leaves, delivered like it's just a fact. "You'll always have someone new to mess around with, Sora." 

Messing around. 

Is that all he thinks our relationship is? 

* 

Out of everything I've needed acclimating to since our break up/not break up, sleeping alone takes the longest--but somehow it's not the hardest. Honestly, it's kind of nice having all this space to myself. I can twist myself in all kinds of crazy positions while I dream without falling off the bed, which is important for someone who tosses and turns as much as I do. Sometimes I sleep at almost a diagonal, just to take up as much space as I can, just because I can. It's not better than getting to snuggle up with someone I care about, but... it's the best I have right now. 

It's not totally unusual for me to wake up during the night sometimes, but I still feel a little out-of-sorts when I do. It's like I have to take a second to remember where I am before I can settle back in and fall back asleep. I'm pretty awake tonight though, maybe just a little groggy, which means that the chances of getting a good night's rest at this point are slim. 

I rub my beary eyes, starting a little when I hear the unmistakable sound of the doorknob turning across the room. I don't even have time to be nervous before the door opens, light from the hall briefly spilling into my eyes before it disappears, swallowed by darkness. 

I feel for a light, but don't quite make it before-- 

"Hey, Sora," Riku whispers. A patch of mattress to my left side sinks down a little as he takes a seat next to me, which is my only real indicator of where he ended up after he shut the door. 

"What's up?" I ask, trying to make out his form in the dim moonlight. I can catch a little glimpse of his hair, maybe. 

"I can't fall asleep." 

"...Oh." 

"Yeah." He shifts again, a little closer, just so. "Is there room for me?" This feels vaguely like a trap. I move over anyway. 

"...Yeah, always." 

He drops onto his hands, twisted at the waist before his knees hit the mattress, and I try to ignore how he looks on all fours, crawling over me to get back to his side of the bed. 

...Except he's not passing me, just hovering over close, his face near mine, his breath against my neck, hair brushing my face. 

Okay, he has to realize how this seems... 

"Sora..." he breathes, snuggling into me."I miss you." This is so unlike him... but I throw an arm around him and breathe in the scent of his hair anyway. Man, it feels so right. My flawless boyfriend. Riku, mine, no matter what. I try to tell him I miss him too, but for some reason the words get caught in my throat. But that's okay, because the kiss he gives me erases the need for words. Hungry and desperate, I push my tongue into his mouth, and he's more than willing to accept it. 

"Touch me," he says for what must be the first time ever in his life, and he doesn't have to tell me twice. I guess I'm feeling brave tonight, because my hands trail down his back, grasping his ass as he rolls on top of me. 

He separates from me just long enough to start undoing his fly--which is weird, why isn't he in his pajamas--but who cares, because it gives me the chance to run my hand down his front, feeling smooth muscle, his toned stomach, down... lower... the smug little smile he shoots me when I feel between his legs is so, so sexy I don't even know what to do except keep doing it. 

Together we work off his jeans and my shorts then we're curled in each other again, kissing and groping and grinding. Riku tells me he's ready, he wants me, starts telling me in incredible detail the things he wants to do together, keeps moaning my name... and I keep trying to tell him yes but again I can't seem to speak, until-- 

"Riku?" I call, waking with a jolt. 

For real this time. 

It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the brightness of the room. Riku's absence is the first thing I notice... the second is my morning friend. I flop back down, letting myself bask in the fantasy again. Guess that's another perk of not sharing a room... I slide down on the mattress, feet braced on the covers, a hand down my boxers. It's totally shameless, but I don't care. It's not like I have anyone else to worry about. I mean, I guess the timing could be better, though... it's always when I'm pent up and can't do anything with my guy that this happens, isn't it... not that Riku and I have gotten past second base. I wish we had. I wish we would. 

Riku. 

Great. 

Another day of getting to deal with this shit. And now we have a clock ticking down on top of it. Just two days before I know if Riku and I are gonna get back together, or... not. It feels like I'm putting an awful lot into the hands of someone who doesn't know what he wants. And this timeline business just seems super arbitrary. Like, how do you just say 'I'm giving myself 48 hours to decide if I like you enough to stay together'? 

I don't know what leaves a worse taste in my mouth: the way Riku treats our relationship like it's disposable, or the fact that I'm devoting so much energy into hoping he takes me back. 

* 

Sunday evening is my most stressful in a while. I guess I don't do well just waiting. Waiting to hear from Riku, waiting to see what happens when I get to school tomorrow morning after everything that happened last week. I'm not afraid to go back. I'm not afraid of that Senior who decided to come over and pick on us just 'cause Tidus bumped into him on the way to our lunch spot. But... I guess I was just really looking forward to going to school knowing I wouldn't be called a faggot. Now it feels like my experience here has been sullied, just a little. 

Honestly, if Riku hadn't gone berserk on that guy, I probably would've myself. Even with our relationship, not-relationship being what it is... something about hearing Riku get insulted makes me a million times madder than when it's me. 

As a result, I get like no sleep during the night, which might be for the best anyway since the last thing I need is another dream about Riku. Riku wanting it, Riku on top of me, Riku half-dressed and begging for me, Riku hot and panting and calling my name. 

And I need to not think about it, either. 

Ugh. What a mess. I don't know if I'll be able to handle living under the same roof with him, not together, with my libido going totally off the rails the way it is. Especially if not being together just means... not talking. Not being in the same room. Being strangers. 

So in the morning I just try to shower and dress and do my whole routine like nothing's wrong, and I pretend I don't hear Riku leave super early so we don't have to walk together, and when we still end up on the same bus, I beeline it to the back so he doesn't have to. 

The tension only mounts with every mile we get closer to the campus, and by the time the bus screeches to its stop, my heart is thundering in my chest. 

I don't know what I'm in for here, anymore. 

Once I'm off the bus it's only a few more steps to enter the school, at which point the anxiety is in overdrive. It's like I'm expecting the ground to just swallow me up the second I walk through those gates, which is maybe why it's such a massive relief when I do and nothing happens. 

I dunno, I thought that maybe that guy would be waiting to see if he could come for me when I wasn't expecting it, to see if he could finish what he obviously wanted to start. Or maybe his friends or clique or whatever would take it upon themselves to do that for him. Unfortunately... I know all too well that there are plenty of people who aren't above that kind of thing. But all I do is head up the quad, finding my friends at their usual spot and dive right into a conversation about our weekends. And now I just feel silly, for losing sleep over some stupid thing that happened like three days ago now. 

Not knowing where I stand with Riku is the worst, but the more time I spend around Selphie, Tidus, Wakka, and Kairi, the more I feel like I can handle anything that comes my way as long as I have friends to help me. 

Maybe that's even why, when Selphie finally asks if Riku and I are on the rocks, I can meet her question with a shrug and a "Yeah." I bask in their words of sympathy, then confirm that I'm okay and that Riku's okay, too. And for a moment, I even wonder how I got so lucky. I finally had to have this talk with my dad the other day, too, when he asked if Riku and I had had a fight. He was also supportive—of us both-- which is surreal. 

"I'm keeping an eye out now," Selphie warns me. "I'm on cute boy watch, and I'm gonna find someone for you." 

"You're always on cute boy watch," Tidus quips, just barely missing her swat on the arm as the bell rings and we have to part. Kairi and I head to class together, no locker trips needed, when she asks again if I'm okay. 

"...Yeah, maybe," I answer. 

"Let me know if you want Selphie to tone it down," Kairi adds. "I have a feeling she wasn't kidding... and you deserve time to get over this if you need to." I shrug. 

"I mean, worse comes to worse I'll just tell her that I've decided I'm actually straight and that you and I have eloped." She giggles more at the goofy grin I shoot her than the joke itself. 

"I'd be all right with that," Kairi replies, linking her arm with mine. For just a second I press my cheek to the top of her head, wondering how things would be different for me if I actually were straight. I dunno. I'd still have run away, and I think Riku and I would be friends. Best friends. I think I would probably ask Kairi out. It's weird, imagining a world where I could feel that way about her; where I couldn't love Riku if I tried. And how it wouldn't change any of the biggest events in my life, but my life would still somehow be simpler. No hiding, no concealing, and maybe Riku wouldn't be so afraid of me. 

I wouldn't change it though. I don't want to change. And I'm gonna get through this and get everything all figured out whenever Riku decides what he's gonna do. 

* 

True to his word, Riku asks if we can talk Tuesday afternoon. I'm already on red alert, knowing what the topic of discussion is gonna be. As much as I've been trying not to fixate, I've been interpreting his every move during dinner or any other time we're together these past 48 hours. The way he looks at me, or doesn't. The way he touches me, or doesn't. I have to give it to him, Riku is really good at hiding his intentions when he wants to. 

So when we settle on the couch, facing each other, I have no idea what I'm in for. My mind is just ever-mounting tension, the space between Riku opening his mouth and Riku speaking seeming to take hours. Years. I'm waiting for something definitive, a start or an end. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks. 

...Err. That was definitely not what I was expecting. 

"I thought about what you said," he continues. "That I do this to you a lot. You must think I'm unpredictable, and I know that you don't understand me. So. I don't want you to feel like I'm doing anything to you by making this decision, or that... if anything changes down the line... that it's something I should have prepared you for. I can't always prepare you for the way things will be in the future. I think if we stay together, we need to anticipate that. But I do know I don't want to hurt you, and that you shouldn't feel like you have no control in this relationship." 

"So..." I bide my time, trying to absorb what he said. Decoding. 

"I want to know what you think," he reiterates. 

Great. So he pins it on me. 

"I... think... I don't like being apart," I tell him. "And I like being together. When I put it that way, it seems like a no-brainer. And I get that we don't know how things are gonna be down the line. No one ever knows. Like, I'm sure my parents loved each other at some point, but look how that turned out. I just feel like you always find new ways to pull the rug out from under me, you know? If we're gonna work out, we just need to talk about this stuff before it gets bad. I keep saying that, and you keep trying, but it doesn't stop us from going in circles. I think I need to accept that you have limits that might never go away, and there are always gonna be ways we really clash, because we handle things differently. I guess, what I want to know is... what happens if I want to get back together?" 

"Then we get back together." Again, he makes it sound easy. Maybe it can be. If we just... let it. 

"And if I say no?" I ask. 

"I might leave." My head snaps back up, and I stare at him with wide eyes. "...I'll probably leave." 

"Leave... Okeanos?" He offers a stiff nod, and it isn't until I go to speak again that I realize I stopped breathing. "And not... not to go back to Darry, right?" He shakes his head. 

"Of course not. I don't know where I'd go." 

I'm... not entirely surprised by his revelation. Just really, really disappointed. 

"You aren't happy here," I say. 

"I like Okeanos," he responds, not quite looking me in the eye. "I just don't know how to stay in one place for too long... not if I don't have a reason." 

I don't even remember reaching out for him, but my hand is clutching his. I swallow hard. He feels like he needs a reason to stay, as if food and shelter aren’t enough. He's only here because of me... I should be flattered, but I'm just scared. I don't feel like I can take on that kind of responsibility. 

"I can't be that reason, Riku. I want to be with you, but I need to you to promise me that if anything happens, if we break up, or... whatever, that you'll stay here, and you'll stay here for yourself. At least till college. Because you deserve to go to school and have friends and a family that loves you. You deserve to have a normal life. Oh! And promise me that we'll be friends no matter what happens." 

Slowly, he reaches down and places his free hand over mine. 

"I promise." 

* 

The atmosphere of the house is totally different once Riku and I get back together. I swear there's a lightness to him, like he finally has something heavy off his shoulders. He's better off when he listens to me, which is a lesson I feel like we keep learning. I never would've guessed that he was so on the fence about staying with us. I mean, I knew at the very beginning that this might come up, but once school started.... No, even before that. Once we got new clothes and went to the doctor, I figured this was a done deal. It never even occurred to me that Riku still might feel like running away was an option. I'm glad we got to air that out... it's so important for him to know that I don't want him to up and leave. I just can't go through that again with someone I love. 

And the fact that he actually asked my opinion and seemed to value it... it's so big to me. We've come such a long way from that old dynamic, of Riku telling me what to do and me following orders out of a lack of any other real way to go about things, or Riku following my lead just to appease me. 

For the first time since we got together, I'm really excited to see where we're gonna go because I feel like there's a future ahead of us. This is something that we both need to work on, one-hundred percent, and I'm finally confident that Riku's really in it. He just seems so... new. 

Suddenly he's casually affectionate with me, and we talk more than ever... he's taken a total 180, and even though I've always—and will always—stand by the fact that he doesn't need to change to be perfect... it really helps. It doesn't even feel like he's trying, he's just effortless. He doesn't need to try so hard, doesn't need to hurt so much. And I'm so glad, and so, so proud of him for working through whatever he needed to work through to be happy. 

I'm not naive enough to think that this is the end of all of it but... it's a huge step forward. For him, for us. 

When we were still running away, every once in a while I'd see this playful side of Riku come out. It kind of went dormant again once we started to settle in here, and it never really came out again. Never for long, at least. Slowly, I see that beginning to change too, the way he'll joke with me a little more easily and humor me when I distract him during our homework or studying sessions. 

Which I do a lot. 

My favorite is when he leans over me to help with some math problem I'm stuck on, and I'm counting the seconds to see how long he can pretend not to notice when I plant kisses down his jawline. Rubbing my thumb over his hand when we read in silence. Half-ironic footsie that almost always results in roughhousing. 

Some boring Thursday afternoon I initiate a game, rubbing his ankle up to his shin with the bottom of my foot. That barely earns me a glance, so I give him a little tap. A rub. A bump. I bump against him again and he's there to meet me, the pads of our feet colliding. I think maybe Riku gets a little too into it, because he thrusts his leg forward, pushing me back until my knee knocks into the table a little painfully. I shield my surprised yelp with a laugh which doesn't die down even after Riku announces that he won. After he goes back to work I bump him one more time, and he smiles into his book again. 

Guess I should get back to work, too. 

*   
From the end of November up until mid-December, I slog through finals and projects the same as everyone else, trying to make time for my friends, and Dad, and Riku, as much as I can—which sometimes means not very much. 

But the last day of the semester is basically a big party, and a promise that I'll be able to make up for lost time through the next few weeks. Most of my teachers opted for early finals, which means that I get to hang around with my classmates, sitting in the back of the class, eating snacks and laughing through the movies we're being made to sit through so that the teachers can get a head start on grading before they begin their own vacations. 

Kairi's throwing a proper party tonight too, but Dad doesn't want me to go... which pretty much means I'm not going. We need to get the house ready for guests arriving Sunday, since everyone's coming up for Christmas. As much as I wish I could be there with everyone, I guess I can't really complain that my entire family is coming up just to see me. 

Still, that doesn't stop me from sneaking away to call up Kairi so I can see how everything's going. 

"Am I missing a lot?" I ask her once our polite hellos are out of the way. 

"Not too much," she replies. "Don't worry too much about it, okay? There's always next time." 

"Yeah..." 

"Are you excited to see your family over the holidays?" 

I give a firm nod before realizing she can't see, so I make up for it with a "Yeah!" that's maybe a little too loud. "I haven't seen anyone in a long time... I just hope they like me." Kairi giggles on the other end. 

"They will. And I'm sure they'll like Riku, too." 

"I'm less worried about that... as long as they accept me, they'll accept him. He just needs to behave himself." I whirl around, grinning at Riku, who returns with a raised-eyebrow look before going back to the book of the day. Paradise something or other. I slip into the other room to continue my thought without any commentary from the peanut gallery. "Riku can be pretty charming when he wants to be. I think they'll like him." 

"People usually do. Like him, I mean." 

"Yeah." Now if only he'd see it that way. "The looks don't hurt either." 

"He's cute," Kairi says neutrally. Then, "I think he intimidates people." 

I can't pretend not to see that. "Riku's pretty intense. But he's a good person... I just wish the world got to see what I see." I say that like it isn't Riku's own doing, like he doesn't shy away from making friends at every turn. Maybe that will change, too. 

"...I don't think he likes me very much," she confesses after a beat. 

"Of course he likes you!" I insist. "He just--" I pause for a second as Riku walks past me, likely to get to the restroom in the downstairs bedroom. "He's not great at showing it... Give him time to warm up to you. He doesn't really trust people right away, that's all." 

"Maybe the three of us should try to hang out over break?" 

"That would be great! Just let us know when you're free." 

Despite my enthusiasm, I know that might be a hard sell. It isn't that Riku just isn't really making friends here—it's like he refuses to. I'm hoping that'll change now that Riku seems set on staying put, 'cause knowing him, it's completely likely that he was so focused on his next move that he wasn't seeing what was right in front of him. But a part of me sort of worries that he's just going to default into being alone, the way he was when we first met. I really, really hate to think it, but sometimes I wonder if he was like this at his old school, and that's why he had trouble fitting in... nothing will ever justify the way he was treated there, but I am starting to notice kind of a pattern of him making his life harder when it doesn't need to be. 

I just care about him so much, more than he'll ever know, and hope that this change in our relationship will start to reflect in all his others. He deserves the world, but at the very least, he deserves friends. 

Our conversation shifts to other holiday plans and our hopes for the next semester, her family's plans to go up skiing the last few days of vacation, chatting over nothing until it's been a good ten minutes and she needs to go back to blowing balloons. Again I wish I could be there, but I really do get why I can't be. 

Instead, I dust while Dad vaccuums and Riku makes sure that the guest rooms are fully equipped with sheets and extra blankets. Once that's done, I'm tasked with clearing out the fridge, tossing scraps and leftovers we didn't quite get to in time in order to make room for all the stuff we're going to be bringing home after grocery shopping tomorrow. Any kind of conversation started at the beginning of our cleaning frenzy dies out as we slowly succumb to exhaustion and focus in on our own thoughts. 

I didn't realize cleaning could be physically taxing, but by the time Dad regards us, and the house, and says, "I think we're done for the night," my arms are stiff and sore and my feet ache like I've been on them all day. Honestly, it's only nine and I'm ready for bed. 

He dismisses me with a very-Dad-ish hair ruffling and reaches to put a hand on Riku's shoulder, only continuing when he confirms that Riku won't try to shy away. 

The two of us trod upstairs in silence, shooting each other tired little smiles as we head down the hall and into our room. Riku slides into the bathroom before I can get the chance, the sound of the faucet confirming that he's starting his nighttime routine. In the meantime, I change into pajamas and grab a book I started when I was desperate to put off studying for finals a week ago. I'm just starting to get pulled in again when Riku emerges, guaranteeing that my concentration is pretty much shot. 

Rising from the desk chair, I move pull him into a long kiss.

"I can't believe we're already halfway done with the school year," I say, planting one last kiss on his cheek before giving him a little breathing room. "It went by so fast!" 

"Yeah," he agrees lowly. "It really did." There's something weird to the way he says it, and I probably shouldn't press... but instead I hazard a guess at what still might be on his mind. 

"Do you feel weird about deciding to stay?" 

Riku's eyes meet mine slowly, like he had to think about whether he really wants to be looking at me when he responds. 

"A little," he confesses. "I just... don't think I ever really considered it an option. It's..." He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, pushing shoulder-length hair behind his ear. "It's weird. I'm getting used to it." 

Well, since we're in the mood for sharing... 

"I wish I'd known earlier," I tell him, taking a seat next to him at the foot of our bed. "I guess a part of me knew this arrangement might not end up being permanent but... once we got settled in, it all felt so final. I can't really imagine doing all of this without you." 

"You could, though." 

I shrug, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Sure I could. But it wouldn't be as good." I give him a peck on the cheek, but he doesn't respond to it. 

"I didn't want to worry you," Riku continues. "Besides, I didn't know how to just come out and tell you that I was so on the fence about everything... I just figured I'd see you off until you were settled, then I'd move on and neither of us would be worse off for it." I frown while listening, biting the inside of my cheek. I could slap him... what an idiot. 

"Yeah, you're delusional if you ever think you could just disappear out of my life and I wouldn't notice or care." 

Riku smiles at that. 

"I'm still getting used to..." He pauses, but I don't get the feeling he's struggling for a word. More like... he's feeling it out in his head before speaking. "...being needed." 

Needed. 

Yeah, that's a good word to pick. 

"I do need you," I respond, suddenly too embarrassed to keep looking at him. Jeez, I'm so sappy. When did I get like this? "But more than that, I want you. And I think you want me too, so... it doesn't make sense to act as if we're gonna be apart someday. Because we never have to be, if we don't want to." 

He's quiet for a long time. Long enough that I start itching to change the subject, until: "You're right," he says. For a moment I think he's gonna add onto that, but he never does. 

With a sudden heaviness, I realize in startling clarity that I'm in love with him. 

Damn. I love him. And I'm not even afraid. 

Swallowing heavily, I search for words. Not like I'm just going to out and tell him, but the total silence is starting to get to me. 

"Hey, do you want to go out onto the balcony for a little while?" I finally decide on. Riku shakes his head. 

"No, I think I just want to go to bed." 

It's once he says it that I realize I'm no longer tired, which complicates things a little. Looks like it's downstairs for me. 

"I'll just catch some TV, then," I tell him, stretching out before I jump to my feet. "If I come back in a couple hours, will that wake--" 

"I kind of want you to come to bed with me." Riku's soft voice cuts me off... and shuts me up. "We don't have to go to sleep right away." 

I swallow hard. 

"...Yeah. Sounds good." 

Feeling dreamlike, I somehow find it in me to hit the bathroom to brush my teeth before diving into bed, finding a pajama-clad Riku waiting for me. I'm grateful we're both in clothes a little easier to take off, not that I think we're gonna... 

But it'd be nice... 

I crawl into bed next to him, waiting for him to make the first move only because he's been so weird about me kissing him tonight. He's predictably hesitant to connect our lips, but by the time I've slid down into the covers and he can comfortably get real close to me, he seems to be getting into it a little more. My mind always goes into this hazy blank when we start this... it's nice not having to think for once, just run on instinct and feeling, and our growing knowledge of each other. I try not to laugh as his breath tickles me, his mouth leaving mine and following a familiar trail down my neck, landing at my no-longer-prominent collar bone for him to lap and suck. 

"You gonna leave a mark?" I ask, no longer being able to contain this embarrassing little giggle as the tickle becomes too much. 

"Do you want me to?" he returns, eyes flicking up, his mouth pulled into something dangerously close to a smirk. I lose my nerve to say yes and end up laughing as if we're in on some joke together. I thread my fingers through his hair next, mussing and flattening it in turn. Without a response from me, he continues working at my throat, light, soft kisses pressed here and there, coming to rest at this little place where my neck and shoulder meet, a place that always sends a flurry of butterflies through my whole body. 

A gasp escapes me when Riku braces himself, palms on the mattress as he slides a leg over mine. For a second he's almost straddling me, but it's just to get me under him, which... well, no complaints here. Curious fingers delve under the soft cotton of his t-shirt, running across bare skin, the bump of vertebrae and the occasional snarl of scar tissue. It's not long before I'm peeling the fabric off him, or before Riku so kindly helps get my shirt off, too. 

I go for the hips first, placing my hands at the waistband of his cotton pajamas and circling my thumbs over them, fantasizing about pushing them down. When that gets to be too tempting, I let go—but only to throw my arms around him, pulling him closer as I wind a leg around his waist. He lets out a surprised little noise, right into my ear, and that nearly ends me. 

But seriously. 

Oh, shit. 

I push my hips into the mattress against my better judgment, caught between needing friction and not wanting Riku to know how worked up I am, especially when he's still seeming so collected. If I think about it, it's kind of weird. Not once has he ever... or at least, not that I noticed or felt... 

Still not sure how to play this off, I freeze for a second. I just don't want to freak him out, like maybe there's a tiny part of me that worries that Riku isn't totally into me the way I'm into him. 

He shifts, throwing his hair back as he leans back into our kiss, and it's that motion that brings him into direct contact with this problem I don't know how to solve. Riku's kisses slow, and he makes an indecipherable noise, low and deep from his lips. It doesn't help matters. Like, at all. 

"Oh," he says next, eyes flicking down for just a second before looking back up at me. Okay, so this is awkward... "Did I..." 

"Yeah," I reply, inwardly cringing. "Sorry. It just kinda... er. Happened." 

Riku sits back on his knees, considering me for a couple moments that seem really, really long. Finally he says, "I don't know what to do." Maybe it's a nervous tick, whatever causes him to move his hand in a way that makes me almost think he's gonna grab it, but he doesn't, and I'm a little more disappointed than I should be. 

"We could just keep going?" I suggest, heart still pounding in my chest. Good thing the blood's rushed elsewhere, or else my face would probably be brick red. Riku hesitates, again going like he's gonna move but ultimately staying where he is. "You don't have to do anything. It'll go away on its own." One way or another, anyway. 

"...You sure?" 

"Yeah." With my confirmation, I slide my hand over his. "If this doesn't bother you, we can just keep going the way we were." 

"We don't have to go further." It's half-question, half-statement, and maybe more of a surprise than it should be, hearing Riku speak so candidly. He's not ready yet. That's okay. 

"Nah, we don't have to go any further. Not till we're both ready for that." I shoot him a smile as I give his hand a quick squeeze, heart leaping when he begins to settle back on me. And the kissing resumes, and it's all back to normal for the most part. Man, that talk could have gone poorly. It does kind of raise more questions about our future though—when he thinks he'll be ready, because I'm pretty sure I'll be by the time he is, if not way earlier. I know I definitely want to go all the way with him... I just hope he wants that, too. It doesn't have to be now, just sometime soon. 

There isn't much time to concentrate on that, though; not once Riku starts shifting, rubbing against me just enough that I'm starting to wonder if it's a little intentional. 

So. That's intriguing. 

"Riku..." I mumble, a little questioningly, corners of my lips upturning into a little smile. I try to bite down on it, but I can't. 

"Is that...?" 

"Good. That's really good." 

He rolls his hips, bumping me until my leg slides limply back onto the mattress, his lips returning to my neck, hands gripping my sides. I grit my teeth hard, resisting for some reason, like I'm still trying to hide this from him. But I don't need to hide. He gets it. It's okay. I'm okay. We are okay. 

My hands fly back to his hips, and I'm grinding into him, feeling him against me, his lips on my skin, his hands on me, his body--and I come, shuddering from head to toe, a little surprised by how fast that happened. Could've sworn I had another few minutes in me... 

"Is--are--" Riku struggles for words as he lets me settle on the bed, slowly pulling away and sitting back up on his knees. "Was that okay?" 

There's an understatement. 

"Yeah, that was alright." 

And there's another one. I send him a quick grin after my affirmation. Am I glowing, or what? Man, it's so much better with another person. No contest. 

I'm trying to figure out how to ask if I should return the favor for him somehow, but the way he rises from the bed to pull the curtain in front of the balcony shut is a silent indicator that we're done for now. Besides, he didn't really seem as worked up as I got... weird. Or maybe not weird? It's not like I have much reference either way. 

Riku flops on his side onto the bed, and something feels a little off, seeing him on the left. He always takes the right side of the bed... but I guess in all our tussling we travelled a bit, and I didn't leave him much room elsewhere. 

"You're okay, too?" I ask, just to make fully sure that he's not freaked out by my kind of extreme reaction to our otherwise pretty standard makeout session. He just nods, and we fall into silence, both thinking about nothing. Or, I am, at any rate. The only thing of note that really floats by in my head is that I should probably change into fresh underwear and pajamas. I definitely can't sleep like this. 

...Wonder if I'm gonna sleep at all tonight. I'm so super wired all the sudden. 

Riku watches me closely as I spring up and head over to the dresser, up until the point that I grab some fresh clothes. I make a quick change in the bathroom, dumping my clothes in the laundry basket on my way back. 

"Now I'm really not tired," I sigh, flopping back onto the bed. Next to me, Riku snickers. 

"Yeah, that woke me up, too." He plants a quick kiss on the side of my face, right up close to my ear. "Want to head downstairs and turn on a game?" 

"Mmm... yeah, sounds good." Riku's the first out of bed, kicking off the covers and placing his feet on the ground, stretching as he rises. I follow, the first out the door, our footsteps light and voices low as we pass Dad's room. His door is closed, as always, but with the hall light on, I can't tell if he's got a light on, too. "I'm looking forward to kicking your ass in something." Riku snorts. 

"I'm sure you are," he says. "But it hasn't happened yet, so..." I shoot a glare his way. 

"Uh... we're five-six last time I counted, so don't get too cocky." 

"Five-seven," he corrects incorrectly. "I beat you yesterday. That was seven." 

"It was six." 

We make it down the stairs despite snickering and shoves, and as we're booting up the console, Riku stops. 

"Maybe we should start the count over," he says suddenly. 

"...You know it was five-six," is my translation. 

He pauses. 

"Shut up." 

*   
We're both wiped out when Dad shakes us up in the morning, but that's not a huge shock when our late night gets taken into account. We must've been up until two, trying to beat each other in fighting games, racing games, and even getting a little further in an RPG we've been kinda stuck in for a while, which is about as productive as I'll ever be during a vacation. 

And Riku'll never admit it, but we're about 14-11 now. He was off last night, to the point that when I ask if he wants to sneak in a round before breakfast, he balks and evades. Maybe his reaction is a little tongue-in-cheek... but I think mostly not. 

I guess it doesn't matter anyway, since Dad asks us to help finish cleaning the second our plates are in the sink. 

I'm sweeping up the kitchen while Riku puts back dishes from the washer, the two of us quietly conspiring as Dad flits around, making sure—again—that we have enough food and drink for tonight. 

"How open do you want to be?" I ask. "I mean, about us? I think if Andrew's okay with us everyone will be, but... I just don't want to feel uncomfortable all weekend." 

Riku shrugs, briefly reaching over my head to slide a few glasses into the cupboard. "I'm fine with being open. Or not. It's your family, Sora. I'll follow your lead." 

I open my mouth, not even sure what's gonna come out, but not totally surprised when it's a firm, "I don't wanna hide." 

Riku nods once, twisting at the waist to plant a quick kiss on my forehead. 

"Then we won't hide." 

I swear I don't stop grinning at him for a full minute after he turns his back to me, continuing his task. How cool is it that he isn't ashamed of me? That he isn't ashamed of us? 

I'm so starry-eyed through the afternoon that Dad must think something's wrong with me. At least, he keeps sending me these funny half-smiles whenever he thinks I'm not looking. He probably thinks I've gone crazy, but I don't even mind. The high keeps me on my feet up until the doorbell rings, signalling our first guest. 

I rush to the entry, throwing open the door, and find myself swept up in a hug before I even know who I'm letting into the house. 

"Sora!" Aunt Taylor crows, and only then do I return the gesture, circling my arms around her waist. I shoot a smile over to Andrew, who's hovering at her side, as best as I can from my vantage point crushed against her chest. 

She releases me, but not before running a soft hand over my scalp in a gentler version of Dad's haphazard hair-tousling. 

I lead them in, offering to help with bags but they refuse, eyes scanning for a sign of-- 

"Taylor! Hey!" 

Okay, good. Dad emerges from the kitchen to take the lead not a moment too soon, which frees me up to go see where Riku's hiding. I watch them disappear into the room Dad gave Riku his first night here, their voices loud enough to follow me to the couch as I plop down only for a moment before the doorbell rings out again. 

In my head, I'm trying to figure out a battle plan if it ends up being someone I don't know, but luckily for me it's Sandy, a little-harried looking and carrying a casserole dish with something that smells really good. Sweet potatoes, maybe. 

"Hi Sora!" she says, sounding breathless. I can't help but notice—really notice—that she walks right in as if she owns the place. I like her, but... I'm still not totally sure how I feel about it. "How are you?" 

"I'm good! Hey, let me take this." I slide the casserole dish out from under her arm and place it onto the last free space on the counter. 

"Thank you! I just got off work, I had to run home to change—is anyone else here yet?" I nod. 

"Yeah, my aunt Taylor and her boyfriend are here, but that's it. They're in the guest room." 

"Oh, good. So I'm not too late." 

I'm not particularly offended that she heads off without another word. She's here for Dad, after all. 

Now... where's Riku? 

I head upstairs to our room, half-expecting him to be in bed with his book in hand... but he's not. That leaves just one place. I cross the room, prying the door to the balcony open, a grin springing to my face when I find him there, scratching notes into a notebook with a nubby pencil. 

"Hey." 

"Hey," he replies after a few seconds. I plop down next to him, initiating cuddle-mode. 

"You disappeared, so I came looking for you." 

He hums his acknowledgment, finishing whatever thought he had before closing his notebook and setting it aside. He slides an arm around me with no fanfare, no hesitation. 

"It's a nice night," he says. "New moon, so more stars than usual." 

"What, you came out here to look at the stars? Didn't take you for a romantic," I tease. He just rolls his eyes, but my stupid joke isn't enough to stop him from resting his head against mine. 

"Who's here already?" 

The number is small enough that I can tick them off my fingers as I go. "Aunt Taylor and Andrew, and Sandy. That's about it." 

"Hm." 

I press a kiss to his cheek, give his hand a squeeze. 

"We got this," I tell him. He just rolls his eyes again, laughing. 

"Yeah we do," he says. 

We huddle together in the cool night air, the warmth from Rku's soft sweater seeming to seep into my skin. I can't say what's going on in Riku's head, but I watch for headlights on the street, for anyone who might be on their way to park in front of our house. For family. 

* 

I dunno when I began to nod off, but I'm jolted after a good fifteen minutes when Riku stands, strong grip on my arm helping me to my feet. Dad must've called us down, but I think I was just out enough that I didn't hear him. 

We rush downstairs, each straightening a little as five new adults come into view as early as the stair landing—an elderly couple, undoubtedly my grandparents, and a woman even older—my great-grandmother, I guess? That just leaves a woman who seems to be a few years older than Dad, another aunt, I'm guessing, and her boyfriend or husband. My uncle? Or does Dad have a brother that I've forgotten about? Yikes, that would be a bad mistake to make. 

Riku and I approach them slowly, neither of us very keen to interrupt their fast-paced catch-up conversation. My other aunt is the first to notice us, giving Dad a gentle nudge so he can kick off the introductions. 

"Sora!" He calls, like he hasn't seen me in weeks. He takes a step forward, ushering me into the center of the circle with this grin on his face. I kinda feel like a prize pony, but at least it means he's proud to be showing me off... I guess? He racks of names almost faster than I can absorb them, but I catch that his second sister's name is Claire, and her husband is Frederick, and then my grandma is scooping me in her arms and giving me what might be the tightest, most bone-crushing hug I've ever received in my life. She smells like perfume, just how I always pictured when it was just Mom and me during the holidays and I tried my best not to be jealous of everyone who had family to visit. 

"Ma, let him go!" Dad laughs behind me, and she draws away just in time for my grandpa to give me a big, friendly slap on the shoulder. I get to listen to the last time I saw you, you were this big spiel a couple of times, from grandma and grandpa first, then from Claire. And then it's all the kind of embarrassing comments about me being handsome, and about girls and girlfriends. 

Right. I should probably clear that up sooner or later, especially if the big snort from Taylor is any indicator of how those comments are gonna go down with those of us who know. 

I shoot an apologetic glance over to Riku, who's been standing on the sidelines through this whole thing, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He just shrugs when he sees me, looking more serene than I thought he'd be, all things considered. 

"Oh—hey, we've got a guest I'd also like to introduce you to. Riku?" I expect Riku to lose his cool here, even a little but, but he just responds to Dad with a nod and takes a step forward. "Riku's staying with us, too. He and Sora have grown really close these past few months. We're glad to have him here." Riku's slow to tear his eyes away from Dad, and I just know he's analyzing and overanalyzing that last sentence to death. I'll have to remind him tonight that It's true. 

Maybe using my mouth and body. You never know. 

I let my family swarm Riku for a couple of minutes, bombarding him with questions about how he's settling in, how he likes Okeanos. I wonder how much they know about us running away. I wish I'd thought to ask Dad what he's told them... I wish he thought to tell me. 

The doorbell rings, and Dad leaps out of the group and rushes to the door, his greeting bright from the entryway. I squint for some reason, craning my head to try and see between Sandy and grandpa. We're joined by what can only be my other grandparents, on my mom's side. I can't help but show the confusion plain on my face. Why would they be here, joining the family of their daughter's ex-husband? Not that I'm unhappy or anything, but does that mean... Mom might... 

"Dad?" I ask. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure! But don't you want to say hi to Grandma and Grandpa Amari first?" 

"Uh, hi!" I call, ready to bolt until I'm pulled into another cycle of hugging and tears and kisses, which I intend to respond to more earnestly—and will, later—but I gotta start clearing stuff up with Dad now. 

Sensing my urgency, Dad says, "C'mon, why don't you and Riku help me start setting up. I'll meet you in the kitchen." 

I slip out of the crowd, a visibly relieved Riku trailing behind me, leaving the adults to talk amongst themselves. My heart rate returns to normal by the time we reach the kitchen. Man, I didn't realize how much it gets the adrenaline going, being in the center of so much positive attention. 

"What's up?" Dad asks. 

"Why'd mom's parents come?" I ask. "Does that mean Mom's coming too?" I squeeze Riku's hand, wondering just how messy things could get depending on his answer. Dad shakes his head. 

"I extended the invitation out of courtesy... they've been estranged from your mother for a few years, and I thought they might want to meet their grandson. They're good people, I think it was just your run-of-the-mill family squabble." Which is to say, Mom is really good at cutting people out forever if they piss her off even once. Honestly, I kind of wonder why she didn't disown me once I ran away, like Riku's dad did..."I did reach out to your mom to discuss how she wanted to handle the holidays, and she's okay with you remaining here. She's interested in seeing you during the summer, but the three of us can hash that out later." 

I nod, nerves officially calmed. Okay, that's half of it. 

"What does everyone know about Riku and me?" 

Dad looks confused. "What do you mean?" Right. 'Cause Riku and I are still in the mode of keeping so much secret and school and stuff... I bet it didn't occur to Dad to hide that we were runaways. But then, he's also been good about letting Riku and I come out at our own pace, so I seriously doubt he gave everyone the dirty details. 

"Do they know I ran away? I think that might be awkward for mom's parents..." 

I feel Riku give my hand a squeeze back, and he murmurs something about running upstairs for a minute, leaving the two of us alone. 

"Taylor knows you ran away, but the most everyone else knows is that I have custody as of this summer." 

"And Riku?" 

"They know he was homeless and that we took him in. They know that you've been friends for several months." 

"But not boyfriends." 

Dad hesitates. "...No. Even though I don't think it would be a problem given Taylor's reaction, I just didn't know if that would be sensitive information for you, kiddo." 

"Okay, thanks. I'll let them know when it comes up... and if they ask, I'm not gonna lie and pretend I didn't run away." 

Dad's expression is hard to decipher, but he gives me a nod. "Do what you gotta do," he says. I nod in return, ready to go back out into the living room and rejoin the conversation. "Sora, hey. Come back." I little puzzled, I turn again. "I'm not ashamed of you. I want to make it very clear that that isn't why I didn't tell the family that you're gay myself." 

I never thought that was the reason, but... hearing him say it seems to lift something from me that I didn't even realize was holding me down. 

"I know, Dad." 

"Oh, and Sora?"" 

"Hm?" 

"While you're here, you might as well actually help set the table." 

I grin, snorting a laugh. "Sure thing." 

*   
We gather at the table, bringing out food and setting out plates, placemats, glasses for wine or sparkling cider. I settle in with Riku on one side and Dad on the other, then Sandy, Taylor, Andrew, Claire and Frederick, Dad's other sister, Sherry, and her husband, both of whom arrive just in time, then Dad's parents, Mom's parents. It's a full table for sure, and loud. 

I keep finding myself looking over at Mom's parents, wondering what could've happened to make them stop speaking. It's weird, too, how connected I feel to them. My name—Sora—meshes better with theirs than it does with anyone on my Dad's side of the family, and though by some genetic fluke I got blue eyes and lighter hair, I can see so much of myself in the shape of their eyes, their noses. I wonder if being here is weird for them. 

But they still came. Because they love me. 

All of this is because they love me and wanted to see me. 

I don't totally know what to do with that, either. But I love them too. I know that. 

"Sora, how do you like Okeanos?" Grandma Hart asks me, the din quieting a little as I speak. They all treat me like I came back from the dead, a little bit. Of course, I've just taken a huge bite of turkey, so I gotta chew and swallow quickly, chasing it with a glass of water. 

"It's great!" I tell her. "I love how much there is to do. We haven't seen everything yet, but we're gonna go to the zoo soon. Right, Dad?" 

"Sometime before break ends," he confirms. 

"And I really like the school here," I add. "Everyone is really cool so far." Well, maybe minus one lunatic of a senior, but he hasn't so much as looked our way since that fight with Riku, so I think we're good there. "And I got my report card back a few days ago—all B's and A's. Well, one C, but only barely." 

"And you're gonna raise that by the end of the school year, right Sora?" Dad prompts, but there's no real bite to it, not like when Mom would get all down over my considerably worse grades back in middle school. 

"Yep!" 

"And we had straight A's from Riku this past semester," Dad adds, smiling. "I'd say they're both settling in pretty well." 

It's a stupid thing, but I well up with so much pride when Dad mentions that. Riku was out of school for three years and just gets right back into the swing of it like nothing happened. Especially compared to the mental state he was in when we met.. It just goes to show that you can't underestimate him. He never misses a beat, and he's so smart. Everything Riku does is such an inspiration to me, and I find myself pushing myself to do well harder than ever before, all because I want to keep up. 

I wonder if Aunt Taylor catches the moony look I must be giving him, because she asks me for the butter even though it's definitely closer to Aunt Sherry. Still, I lean across the table to push it over anyway, maybe a little thankful for the distraction. 

"Are you thinking of attending college in the area?" Grandpa Amari asks next. A little anxiety grips at me. Man, I haven't even thought about college. I have no idea what I want to do with my life... 

"Oh, they have plenty of time to worry about it!" Grandma Amari, pitches in. "Don't pressure them." 

I just laugh, shaking my head. "I really haven't thought about it yet," I confirm. "It'd be nice to stay local, though... I feel like I just got here. I don't really want to pack up and move while I'm still getting to know Dad again and everything." I pause, eyes raking over both sets of grandparents, a pang of guilt hitting me all the sudden—hard. "Maybe a halfway point between Mom and Dad would be good, too. I really just want to be close to family right now." 

"Well, you can't get much closer than you are right now," Grandpa Hart says, flapping his elbows out like some kind of funny bald chicken, illustrating the very noticeable lack of room between each of our chairs. We all laugh, though the Hart sisters look to be different degrees of embarrassed. 

"And what about you, Riku?" Aunt Sherry asks. "You must be starting to look at colleges." Dad and I both let out an odd little sound. Right, they don't really know that Riku's only attended about four months' worth of high school. 

"...A little," he responds, which may or may not be a cover. "I haven't really decided on anything yet... I might see where Sora ends wanting to go and decide from there." I perk up a little at the mention of my name. That's right... if we end up applying all over the place and get into different schools... I try to imagine four whole years apart, rooming with other guys to boot, and it makes me feel vaguely queasy. 

"You're a year ahead of Sora, right?" Sherry presses, looking a little puzzled. 

"Yeah." 

"Riku and I have just been together for a long time," I pitch in. Actually, now's probably the best time to get this over with, so... here goes. "He really looked out for me after I ran away, and I'm not super looking forward to being apart now that he's my boyfriend." 

I swear the table goes so silent. I wonder which one's more of a bombshell: that I'm gay, that Riku's my boyfriend, or that I ran away from home. 

"Mike..." says Grandma Hart. "You didn't mention..." I'm quick to jump in. 

"I think he didn't want things to be awkward for me. But yeah. Um. I ran away toward the end of the school year so I could live with Dad." My face heats up; I can feel Mom's parents' eyes on me. I just don't want to embarrass them. I don't want to embarrass Mom. I shouldn't care, but it's eating away at me. "I was really unhappy at school, and I was worried that I was bothering Mom too much. In hindsight, that wasn't true. But I think she and Dad worked it out so I could be in a better place. And like, get into a better college and stuff." Okay, that last bit is a bit of a stretch. But I'm guessing that my dad's side of the family has every reason not to like Mom--and vice versa-- and I'm not repaying her family for coming down here by trashing their daughter in front of everyone. "Oh, also, I'm definitely gay. Just, to put that out there. I'm gay. So. Yeah." 

Next to me, Riku looks impassive. Probably should have warned him about this ahead of time, though I don't know how I would've. Still, he did say "whatever you want"… It's just... I already feel them seeing him differently. 

My jaw nearly drops when Andrew's the first one to pipe up, with an oddly supportive, "That shouldn't be a problem with anyone here, right?" 

"Actually, I think we should toast." Taylor's up next, her glass already in the air. "This is our first holiday together in years, and we get to celebrate with new family, too." 

"Hear, hear," says Grandpa Hart. Then we're all raising our glasses, and clinking, and it's all: to family, to love, to Riku, to Sora. I swear I forget how to breathe. I know I should really stop being surprised when things go well. 

It just might take a little while. 

*   
The uncomfortable questions begin just after dinner, while we're all waiting to digest our meals before dessert. It becomes apparent really quickly that I'm the only gay person in the family... or, at least, the only one who's gay and out. And I might also be the only out, gay person at least half of them have ever known. 

Grandma Hart's line of questioning is personal and embarrassing, but to be fair I really don't think she realizes... she's just curious. 

Really, really curious. 

About everything. 

How we met and how I knew I liked him and how I knew I was gay and gay relationships in general... if she asks if one of us is the "girl" in the relationship, I'm going to die. 

"So, is there a boy and a girl? Just how does that work?" 

Oh man, why did I have to put that out there? 

"Uh... no Grandma, not exactly... we're, um. We're both guys. So we're both the boy in the relationship? Like, we switch off paying for dates and stuff, and usually whoever gets to the door first holds it open kinda thing." 

"That is so interesting," she says, like the concept is totally new to her. But then, she's seventy years old--it probably is. Even if she had gay friends growing up, they wouldn't have been out about it then. 

Despite feeling a little like a zoo animal, I feel a wave of affection for her that I didn't before. Being accepted, unconditionally, by my family... this is better than I ever could have imagined. 

"I hope you're good to him," is one of the playful jabs I catch grandpa throw at Riku. Which is kinda... I don't know. Even if Riku didn't treat me well... (which he does, thankyouverymuch) why would he be so stupid to say it? 'I treat him like shit, sir.' 

Hmm. 

Whatever Riku says, I don't catch it. It's probably not 'I treat him like shit.' 

I catch his next question as dessert is brought out, and my side of the table hits a lull as we begin dishing up. 

"So, do you play any sports, Riku?" 

"No, but I used to." This piques granddad's interest. Now he's enthused. 

"What did you play? Football, soccer, hockey?" 

"Soccer, football, um... track I could do... not for a team or anything, but I enjoyed it in P.E. when I took it back in middle school. I was on a street hockey team back when I was a kid, but... I haven't played that since..." Riku's eyes indicate he's far away for a brief moment, but he's back when Grandpa slides more turkey to him, urging him to eat more. Just like that, he's in. He's talking to Aunt Taylor and to Andrew, to Aunt Sherry and Aunt Claire. He makes them laugh and engages them, gently sarcastic and all-around charming. He fits into our family like he was always meant to be here, like our distance from each other growing up was some kind of cosmic goof-up. 

Dessert makes way for a sleepy, comfortable silence before we slowly rouse ourselves and begin the clean-up process. Dad's quick to start kicking people out of the kitchen, claiming that he can handle it, but Taylor's insistent on giving him a hand. I give them space to duke it out a little, slipping away to do something that I think really needs to be done. 

I walk over to the phone--not the nearest one, on the kitchen counter, but the one all the way in the living room almost by the front door. I really want to be away from everyone while I do this. Taking a breath, I dial Mom's number. I don't even have to think about it; it's still as natural to me as when I lived there. 

It rings once, my nerves mount. Twice, and my stomach's all tangled up. Three times, and my hands are a little sweaty. Four, I'm about to hang up or prepare to leave a message when I finally hear some movement on the other end of the line. 

"Hello?" Just the one word and I know she's buzzed--at least. I try not to feel too let down. It would have been nice if things turned around for her... she was never drunk on Christmas when I lived at home. Well, maybe not till after I went to bed. 

"Hi, Mom. It's Sora. Merry Christmas! Well, almost Christmas, anyway." 

"Sora?" 

"Yep! How are you?" 

"How am I? Sora, honey, I can't believe you're so far away." …Oh, okay. So it's gonna be this kind of thing. 

"I know," I tell her, lowering my voice. "We've never really been apart before, but it's going to be okay." 

"Okay," she repeats. 

"I'm going to visit you soon, okay?" 

It's all low, morbid laughter from her. "Yeah, I'm sure you're gonna visit real soon. Okay, Sora." My grip on the phone tightens. 

"I just wanted to call you to say Merry Christmas, and I miss you and I really love you. Okay?" Whatever response that earns me is covered up by the sound of a crash in the background, like she dropped something or knocked something over. I'm not totally sure if I trust her drunk and alone... "Hey Mom, you're not alone, are you?" 

"No, Cam's here, he—here, he'll say hi--" Yeah, a resounding "no, thanks" to that one. I don't really hate people, but Mom's long-term boyfriend is high on my shit list. Guess this is my cue to leave. 

"Hey, I gotta go. Will you call me when you're not drunk?" 

"Yeah." 

"Great." Well, that might be an overstatement. "Then I'll talk to you later? Maybe tomorrow?" Again, I don't wait for an answer. I just crank up the sweetness levels with a "Take care of yourself, alright?" And even higher with a "Bye, Mommy." Again I add, "I love you", but the line goes dead before I can get it out. 

I guess that went better than it could've... I just wish I knew what to do. 

By the time I head back out, everyone's relocating: Dad's parents and grandmother are going to get to sleep, Taylor's talking to her sisters, and Mom's parents are going to head back to their hotel. Riku excuses himself pretty quickly and, of course, where Riku goes I follow. 

He's quiet as we get ready for bed upstairs, and thoughtful. 

"You okay?" I ask him. He doesn't reply right away. 

"Yeah. Overwhelmed. Tired. But okay." 

"Me too," I respond. That seems to do the trick: he loosens up, posture a little more comfortable as he yanks the covers from the bed and slides in. 

"They really love you, Sora," he says. 

"They love you too." It'd be easy to slip in a "so do I", but for some reason, I don't. I just give him a quick kiss and turn out the light, latching onto him for warmth as I drift off. 

*   
In the morning I don't wake until well after ten, when a bright beam of sunlight falls directly over my eyes. It must be a slow morning, because Riku's still just in sweats and a tank top as he works at our desk. Writing, probably. And our next semester doesn't even start for another week, so he must just be doing this for fun... I think back to his notebook, the one I found back at the shelter ages and ages ago, littered in doodles and crossed-out poetry and prose. I wonder what he writes about, if this is what he wants to do after high school and college. 

I swing my legs off the bed, stretching when my feet hit the floor. Slowly I amble over to Riku, a little clumsy in my haze of grogginess, and come to rest with my arms over his shoulders, cheek resting on his head. 

"What're you working on?" I lean forward, reaching to motion to the sheet of notebook paper in front of him—and it earns me a rough nudge in the stomach as he turns to face me, snapping out something I don't catch when I'm too busy feeling super winded. Oof, that smarts. 

"Sorry," I mutter. "Jeez." 

"...No," he responds. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to--I just--are you hurt?" 

"Nah," I respond, finally catching my breath. "It takes more than an elbow in the stomach to keep me down!" He smiles softly, sliding an arm around my waist and resting his head against my shoulder as he gently flips over his paper with his free hand. Message received, loud and clear. 

"...I just get a little defensive, I guess," he says. "This shouldn't be a surprise, but my writing didn't go over well with my classmates or teachers at school. It's been hard enjoying it again." 

I press a kiss to the top of his head. "Do what makes you happy, babe. It's stupid to make fun of someone over their hobbies. They were wrong, not you." He gives me a squeeze and another smile. 

"I know. It didn't bother me much at the time, what they thought about that kind of thing. I didn't really think much of their opinions but I'm still just trying to gauge... well, everything, I guess. What's normal or weird or right or wrong." 

"You want to be true to yourself, but you don't want to end up in the same place. Trust me, I get it." I press a kiss to the top of his head. "Maybe sometime you'll let me read something, though?" The silence that falls must last a minute, two minutes. 

"...Maybe," he says, which is honestly a "no" if I've ever heard one. I guess that's fine. He's entitled to something private, something that's just for him. I almost say as much, but for some reason I don't really muster the energy. I just hold him for what feels like forever, breathing deep and taking in the cool December morning air. The heat'll kick on any minute, though. 

"My notebook was stolen once," he says suddenly, in lieu of acknowledgment. He slowly lets go of me and stands, shaking out his wrists and hands for a moment before letting them fall to his sides. 

"Hm?" 

"Yeah. I left it behind in class. Stupid mistake. I just... threw it under my seat and forgot. So someone took it, and they passed it around school instead of giving it back. Probably felt like they struck gold when they realized it wasn't schoolwork." 

"...Shit," I respond. 

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I mean, I got it back eventually, but not before it'd been in the hands of basically everyone who had a problem with me. Maybe I'd be more open to sharing if there hadn't been weeks of having my shit quoted back to me until I couldn't stand that I'd written it anymore." 

"You know I'd never--" 

"I know, Sora." He shakes his head. "It's my fault for being careless. And for letting it get to me the way it did. That was on me, and no one else." I'm about to argue the hell out of both of those points—there is nothing, nothing that happened to him back there that's his fault—but he flicks his head to the door and turns. "Hey, let's go get some breakfast." 

Once we step into the hall, voices filter from downstairs, meaning all the adults are up and out. I hear Sandy for sure, which is interesting. I wonder if she stayed the night... I guess she is family, in a way. The way Riku is. I dunno. It's all weird. 

"...Hey," I say quickly, just before we head down the stairs. "I get it, you know? I didn't really care about what the kids at my school would stay or what they thought, but it still feels shitty, and I still feel myself second-guessing a lot. I think it's natural." 

He lets out a long breath. 

"Yeah. I guess it is." 

* 

Christmas morning is the magic that I always wanted it to be when I was little. The tree is lit up and I'm pampered a little more than I think I'll ever be, given that this is the first time they've seen me since I was born—or really little, at least. Not that that's what really matters, though. Honestly, the best part of the day is when I sit in the big armchair, pulled in next to the couch, Riku by my side. My great-grandma puts her hand over mine and tells stories about Dad and his sisters, and grandma when she was little... we're all wiped out and it's just serene and relaxed, and I wouldn't change a single detail. It's perfect. Everything about it is perfect. 

* 

The last of my vacation is quiet, but I don't really mind. I never complain about time off, even if it's been spent mostly by myself. Riku's been out the last few days, all caught up in plans with a group of friends I don't know very much about... as in, I heard about them for the first time like, yesterday. But I'm really, really trying not to push, 'cause I know he'll tell me all about them when he's ready. I guess I'm kind of bummed that he hasn't gotten very close to any of my friends, but he still eats with us at lunch so there's still some interest on his part, I think. When school's back in session, I'm gonna ask if he wants to invite his other friends to come sit with us. The more the merrier—right? 

Riku ends up shuffling up the stairs from his latest outing at almost midnight Saturday, which he'll probably hear about from Dad tomorrow unless he was better about texting him than he was me. I sent him a message once at 10 and again at 11 and heard nothing. I figured—and was hoping—that it meant he was just having a good time, and it's kind of a relief to see that I'm right about that. There are worse reasons for kids to not come home after dark in the city. 

He greets me first, which isn't unusual per se, but I always notice when he does. He's got this big grin plastered on his face, stumbling a little over a loosely-tied shoelace. 

"You look like you had a good night," I observe, making room for him on the bed. He all but falls onto it, rolling onto his back with an arm draped over his eyes, laughing. I lean down to give him a kiss, and that's when I catch the unmistakable, stomach-churning scent of liquor on his breath. My heart plummets. "...Where were you tonight?" 

"What does it matter?" he responds, not as slurred as I was expecting but he's unmistakably sloshed. I dodge when he leans up for another kiss. That's when I realize my heart is pounding--and not in a good way. And tears are threatening to spring into my eyes. I don't want to go through this, not again, not with Riku... 

"Riku... are you drunk?" I know he is; I just need him to acknowledge it, I need him to say something. 

He reaches over and grabs my knee, looking up at me, eyes a little foggy. 

"Sora, I'm drunk," he says. "I'm not drunk-drunk. But it's okay. Don't look like that." He must be referring to the straight-mouthed, thin-lipped look I'm giving him. I'm mad. I have to be, or else I'd fall apart. He rolls onto his back and suddenly goes still, face pale. "Think I'm gonna throw up." 

Great. Awesome. I push the trash can over to his side of the bed and settle in next to him. Tomorrow, he's gonna be hearing about this. For the time being, though, I guess I'll just take care of him. Make sure he gets to bed, and be ready to help out when he wakes up with a killer hangover tomorrow. 

What happened tonight doesn't matter. I can ask questions later. Right now, I just need to help him through this.


	20. Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a new year promises more than it can deliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some subtle changes to the tags, FYI.

I feel like my head was just run over by a car. 

I want to throw up—I think I already might have--but I don't think I can even muster the energy to get to the bathroom. 

Death. 

Death would be preferable right about now. 

At least Sora's quiet when he walks in, a cup of water and plate of something with a smell that nearly bowls me over. 

"Hey," he greets me gently, setting the glass and plate on the table next to me with care. "Dad went down to the store and I asked him to pick up some stuff I thought would help you when you woke up." 

Mr. Hart. Shit. 

"...Did you tell--?" 

He shakes his head, relieving me of the thought. I want to thank him, but words escape me. I feel so scrambled; I can barely remember what happened last night. And the parts that do come to me... they're almost too vivid. I wonder if I'm not still a little drunk. 

"I just told him you got sick last night so he picked up some medicine for you." From across the bed, he tosses a set of two pills to me, wrapped individually in their little plastic-and-foil cases. "These should help with the nausea." Two more fly my way; they hit me on the shoulder and bounce off. I'm too tired to even try catching them. "These will help with the headache. But what you need most right now is water, okay?" 

I nod slowly, as slowly as I can, and the room around me still spins. When Sora lifts himself from the bed to close our drapes, I almost cry with relief. The light... it's too much. I can't handle the light right now. Maybe never again. 

For his trouble, I swallow each pill with a swig of water, just hoping that they kick in fast. 

"Do you think you can eat something?" Sora asks, which confirms that the anti-nausea medicine isn't working yet. He slides the plate over, the smell just about killing me. I can barely look at the mountain of scrambled eggs, piled over the least appetizing toast I've ever seen in my life. "It's almost eleven. You should get something in your stomach." 

I close my eyes, wanting to go back to sleep, but then Sora's nagging me to eat and I _know_ he isn't going to let this one drop. "I promise you'll feel better," he says. 

One bite puts me under. I'm up so fast to get to the bathroom my head spins, but at least I make it just in time to empty the contents of my stomach in the toilet and *not* all over the white carpet. I have to brace myself to stand again because my head and stomach are still reeling from the intensity of it all. 

Slowly, I make my way back to the bed. Sora's still there with that fucking blue bowl, but I can't, I can't-- 

"You all right?" he asks. 

I can only nod once, very slowly, my throat burning from the acid. When I settle again, Sora conforms to me--I get into the most comfortable position I can, curled up on my side, my hair tied in a knot at the base of my skull to keep it out of my way, and hugging a big, cool, pillow. Sora moves my head just slightly to rest it on his lap, and sometime after I've closed my eyes he presses something cool and damp to my forehead--it takes me a second before I realize that it's the sleeve of his jacket. I cuddle into his palm, because it's the only way I can think to show him just how much I appreciate that he's doing this for me, when he could be off doing just about anything else. 

This is the last thing I was expecting from him. 

I don't know what I was expecting. 

I don't know what I was thinking. 

Drinking felt good at the time, like for once I could be wild and not have to care about anything, or anyone, or my own walls and insecurities and inhibitions. Like I could be a kid. A teen. Normal. 

I should've known better. It's not my life, never has been. Maybe it's for the best that I know that now. I can just get on with things as normal, whatever that means for me, and just play nice with Sora and his dad and the kids at school, and just let anything that's going to come, come to me for a change. 

I'm still mad at myself, but maybe not as much as I should be. I just need to be more careful in the future, but no one is hurt. Instead of telling myself I fucked up, I just need to let myself believe that I learned. 

I learned, I learned, I learned. 

I contemplate it as I slowly drift into deep sleep. 

\ 

I wake up sometime in the late afternoon, feeling almost back to normal, and my first thought is that I need to go track down Sora and let him know. First, though, I sneak out onto the balcony. I think some fresh air will do me good, will shake the last of the hangover out of my tired body. 

To my surprise, Sora's already beaten me out here, sitting with his legs crossed on the ground, back straight and very still. Something about it sets me on edge, and I'm not sure if it's just the alcohol. 

"Hey, thanks." That's my version of a greeting, but I think right now it outweighs hi or how are you. 

"I don't know what you were thinking," Sora says evenly. He still isn't looking at me. Breathing deep, I find the strength to speak. 

"It won't happen again, Sora." 

When I drop to a knee next to him, settling in, I almost expect him to tell me to leave but he doesn't. But he doesn't engage or lean into me either, which hurts almost as much... not that he's out of line, being mad at me. I messed up. 

So I tell him. 

"I didn’t mean for things to go that far," I continue, watching him watch me from the corner of his eye until he can finally stand to look me in the face. "I got too caught up with the people I was out with and forgot myself. I'm sorry." 

"I'm sorry for being so mad," Sora replies stiffly. "It's just... still kind of a fresh wound. I've been surrounded by drunk people my whole life, and I don't ever want you to be that person. Plus, what you did was dangerous. And illegal." He shakes his head. "I just thought that... after everything you went through with Nathan, you'd be a little more careful. That's all." 

I jolt, hearing him say my father's name. I always do. Sora and his family, then Darry and my own... they feel like two realities belonging to different people. Sometimes I wish I never slipped and called my dad by his name in front of Sora, so I could keep compartmentalizing it. 

And it's not like the parallel is lost on me. I get that getting involved with alcohol isn't probably my best idea, not so young anyway, given what Nathan was. What he was when he drank. But because I know, I can be more careful. It was just once. I just lost myself once, and I'm smart enough not to let it happen again, or at least not frequently. 

I could assuage his fears in more depth, but I'm irked that he'd bring Nathan up right now, so I just say, "I know" and let it be. We kiss, but it's cold and sterile, and Sora excuses himself to go downstairs and find a snack. I don't even have the nerve to feel snubbed. He's mad, he's hurt, he's worried. I need to let him have that. 

I just grab a notebook from my backpack back in the bedroom, then come back outside and write. It's one of the only things that seems to pick me up. When Sora's mad at me, it might be the only thing. 

\  
Dinner is tense and a little uncomfortable. Sora's friendly to me during conversation, but I still feel a little edgy, like he might still be mad but better at hiding it. When Mr. Hart asks how my outing was Saturday, and tells me I'm free to host a get-together here, I almost choke on my lies. There are a million reasons why Sora and his father will never meet the "friends" I've been seeing more and more of lately, starting with the questions that would arise if they knew that none of them go to my school—haven't been in school for years—and that our relationship kickstarted with a conversation at the bus stop that I'd never be able to report back to them. 

By the time we've finished up dishes, my stomach starts acting up again, struggling to handle the food it's been given, so I excuse myself to bed early. I wonder what alcohol poisoning feels like. 

Or maybe I'm just stressed. Too stressed. 

\ 

I wake up when the first rays of sunlight hit my eyes, six in the morning. Sora must have crawled into bed right next to me at some point in the night because here he is, sleeping on his stomach, head rested in folded arms. I see him so much, every day, that sometimes I forget to really take him in. But he's really something special, his messy mop of brown hair, his tan skin. I think he's gotten taller since we met, and when I think back to things he said to me back then, things that still ring in my head, I realize that his voice has gotten deeper. He isn't that scrawny little kid anymore. He's been fifteen for only two months, but he's grown into it and then some. And he's strong--physically, mentally—and as sincere as ever. 

He's amazing, but for some reason, I just want him to go away sometimes. It gnaws on me more than ever that I could ever feel that way about him. We've been together for too long and I like him too much to ever want to push him away. Things have been good, and now... it's this again. This compulsive need to be alone. 

My head is reeling with an old mantra. 

Why can't I be normal. Why can't I be normal. Why can't I be normal. 

I close my eyes and shift around just enough to find a cool spot on my pillow, hoping to sleep this off.  
Four days. 

Four days until school starts up again. 

The last day of the year tomorrow, and Sora's inviting people over. I'll probably sneak upstairs my first opportunity, let Sora enjoy the night with his friends. I have a feeling I'd just bring the mood down, and if I just tell him I'm not feeling well he'll probably leave me alone. 

Maybe I won't go down in the first place. Let him enjoy a quiet afternoon with his father without me intruding on their time together. They get so little of it; I'm always around, this awkward presence that doesn't quite belong. It isn't fair to them. They deserve to be a family. 

I think I just need to disappear for a while. 

I'm okay, or—I'm going to be okay—but right now I just need to lay low. If I just spend some time on my own, I should come back refreshed and ready to take on... all this. 

At least, that's what I'm hoping for. 

Today, at least, I drag my ass downstairs 'round eight. The intention is to make myself breakfast, but I lay down on the couch instead, already feeling spent. I'm sore, too. All around my back and shoulders... but that's not very unusual, I guess. Four months off the streets and I'm still sore from having to carry my entire world on my back. Maybe we lessened my physical therapy sessions too soon, but I just couldn't handle the constant poking and prodding any longer. I'm so unequipped to handle living. 

"Riku," Mr. Hart says in greeting, taking a seat on the plush chair to my right. 

"Hey." 

"Are you feeling better today?" 

I give a twitch. 

"Yeah, a lot better," I reply. "Thanks for asking." Maybe if I shut my eyes, I won't feel his eyes on me so intensely. He asks if I've got something on my mind. "No... no, not really, Mr. Hart." 

"You just seem a little subdued," he says next, which puts this conversation firmly into "uncomfortable" territory. "I'm here to listen if you need to talk about anything." 

"I'm fine. Everything's fine." 

When he stands, I almost think I'm off the hook. "It's just... you really haven't been yourself these past few days." 

If I had more energy, I'd jump off the couch and reel around to face him. I want to lash out. I want to stand up and scream at him: you have no idea who I am or what it means to be myself. But as angry as hearing him say this makes me, I'm just as angry that he's right. 

Things were going well for months. Once Sora and I had that talk... I can't describe what a relief it was, making a decision. Deciding to stay. And it could have been either one, really—staying or going—but the uncertainty was agonizing. It's just... I don't usually have anything to lose. So it was new, and scary, but exhilarating in its way. To be all in. A part of something, in my way. 

But that high is fading. Maybe that's why I'm so desperately looking to replace it. 

"I'm just exhausted," I hear myself say, but I feel far from it. "I worked really hard this semester, then I stayed out too late, and I burned out. But I'm fine." 

"When's the last time you really had a good night's sleep?" 

"...A while," I admit begrudgingly. "Maybe a couple of nights." He nods, not even surprised. Figures. 

"I thought I might've heard you wandering around." I must blanch a little, nearly jumping to my own defense—Nathan hated when he heard me up at night, just hated it—but Mr. Hart just shakes his head, smiling. "I'm a light sleeper and an insomniac. You certainly didn't wake me." 

"I'm sorry." 

He grins. "Don't be. No matter how much Sandy nags me about it, I still don't take my sleeping pills, so I guess that's on me." 

"You might want to listen to the woman who works in a hospital," I say. Something like a joke. Funny we've reached this point after only four months. 

"Probably. You sure you're all right?" 

No. Of course not. Am I ever sure about anything? "Yeah." 

"I think I might make a doctor appointment for you anyway if this continues. Fair?" He punctuates the question with a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I just barely avoid my urge to flinch or step away. 

"...Sure. Yeah, that's fine." The words escape. I don't remember saying them. It's hard, too hard, to concentrate on anything other than the heat of his hand on me, and I wish he'd stop, he'd let it go, let me go—and when he drops it only to push back my hair, the way he does with Sora, the way he does with his own son, air catches in my throat, strangling me, until I cough up a desperate, an angry, " _Don't touch me_!" 

The silence that follows stings and burns. I avert my eyes quickly so I only have to behold his shocked expression for a second, then I'm turning and walking away, I'm walking out the door, I'm speeding down the sidewalk. I don't know if I brought my keys or phone. I don't even know if I'm wearing shoes. All I can do is focus on my pounding heart and I can't breathe-- 

And I hit the sand, which crunches beneath my sneakers. 

I don't remember putting shoes on. 

I don't remember walking here or jumping the fence. But maybe I can just be thankful that I ended up at my beach and not just.. Lost. Especially because a quick check into my pockets reveal no keys or phone. 

I should... probably really get back. 

I know I'm going to have to answer some questions I don't want to even think about when I get back. I just don't know what happened back there. I don't know why I freaked out. I don't know what's happening to me.

I should just go back now. Get this all over with before I'm gone any longer. So I turn on my heel and march back up to the familiar house on the street that winds uphill. And I have no keys so I'll have to knock, which just adds to the indignity. If no one comes to the door, I wouldn't be surprised. Wouldn't blame them. 

"Riku!" Sora says. "We were just coming out to look for you!" He turns, yelling over his shoulder. "Dad! Riku's back!" 

Mr. Hart shoots me a look as I pass, but it isn't an angry one. And I'm not at all surprised when he pulls me aside to talk to me. 

"Do have any idea how long you were gone?" he asks, in that very parental asking-not-asking way. "I was starting to think I'd have to get the whole city out looking for you." 

"A couple minutes," I reply brusquely. 

He doesn't break eye contact with me for a long time. 

"Riku, you were gone for almost six hours." 

Six hours. 

No. Impossible. He's lying, this is a trick. Frantically I turn to find a clock, any clock—and it's 3 PM on the TV, 3 PM on the microwave, 3 PM on the wall clock. But it can't be, it just can't—he's wrong... it's a trick... 

But the sun's so high... 

"You're definitely not okay." He says it with such a casual air that it's comforting and scary in equal amounts. My jaw sets, fists clench.

"I know." 

"Sure you don't want to talk about anything?" 

"I don't know." I shove my hands in my pockets, letting him steer me to the dining room table. Sora flits around in the kitchen, and that's when I notice the smell of cookies baking. Guess they kept busy while I was gone. Could've stayed gone. Should've. Or. No. I don't know anymore. 

"You still think you're just burnt out?" 

I shake my head, sick of that old excuse, sick of lying. "No. But it's nothing." 

"Riku." 

"It's nothing," I repeat, more firm this time. What's wrong with me... I think we both figured I was going to tell him something useful. God I'm useless. 

"Have you ever lost time before?" Mr. Hart asks me. I nod once, staring down at the table. I haven't ever put it in those terms before, but that seems to sum it up. The blackouts, the feeling of hazy distortion, like I'm not real.

"Not often," I clarify, as if that makes anything better. "Just once or twice." He stares at me, deep in thought, and I feel like I'm being examined. This is when he decides I'm not safe enough for his son and kicks me out. I just know it. 

"I need you to be completely honest with me: are you on drugs?" The question jolts me; I wouldn't be able to come up with a lie even if I needed to. 

"No!" 

"Have you ever been?" 

That one's a little harder. My early teen years, early runaway years, are marked by the occasional blunt, the pill swallowed once or twice, at the insistence of a vicious gang leader who maybe thought he was helping me. I don't think that's enough to say I was _on drugs_. It feels as circumstantial and separate from me as the short-lived cutting. Considering the way Sora latched on to the latter, I'm not exactly eager to share any of these details with his father. 

"No," I say. 

"Okay." He accepts it so easily. I don't trust any of this. "I really think that we should get you some professional help. I want you to have someone that you can talk to without worrying about... anything you might not feel comfortable sharing with me. And I know you really confide in each other, but you need someone other than Sora. An adult." 

I can only ever confide when I focus on anything else, blocking out the sound of my own words. I wonder if this is how everyone feels, when they have to talk about themselves. I doubt it.

"It's alright, really. I just. Things get rough, and I wait it out, and I always bounce back. It's really okay." 

"Wouldn't you prefer not to have anything to bounce back from?" he asks gently, and that totally throws me off. 

"I guess so," I reply before even realizing I've said it. This makes Mr. Hart happy, I can tell. 

"Then let's get you to a psychiatrist." 

"...Okay." 

His next words seeming to echo through my head, my skull. 

"Not a bad way to kick off the new year, right?" 

I should argue, but… it doesn't sound too bad, honestly. 

Let's put some meaning into that old cliche. New year, new me. 

/ 

I'm still tired when six rolls by, but I drag my ass off the couch anyway to help Sora get set up for this New Year's party he's hosting. Setting out bowls, filling them with premade snack mix. Putting sparkling ciders in the refrigerator. It's all the grunt work while Sora tests poppers and throws streamers over lamps. It's gonna be a lot to clean up tomorrow, and it won't matter that I'm planning to head upstairs once his friends start arriving. Still my party. Still my mess. I'm exhausted even thinking about it. 

"Hey, Riku." 

"What?" 

I nearly pull away from his hug, but sink into it instead. 

"I should've asked if you wanted to bring your friends tonight, too," he says, giving me a squeeze and a kiss before stepping back to survey the state of the living room. 

Yeah, no. I can't imagine a worse place for those people than here, and I don't particularly want them near Sora. Can't imagine they'd be too interested in this kind of thing either. Not unless we swapped out the cider for wine and let them get up to things in the dark. 

"It's fine," I tell him. "We just hung out the other night." Sora's mouth twitches. He's remembering me drunk, I'm sure. So stupid. I still can't believe I did that. 

"It'll be fun," he responds, a hand on my arm. "Like Halloween." 

Halloween. 

Right. 

It should be a consolation, but I can barely even remember parts of it toward the end. Just Selphie in a cat costume at school: _You guys didn't dress up? Come on!_ and Kairi, witch-costumed, giving us little choice but to play along. Sora in stupid google-eyed glasses and me dodging Selphie's cat ears for the entirety of our lunch break, only for her to slip them on me at the bus stop at the end of the day, at which point I was too tired to keep fighting and it wasn't that big of a deal, anyway. 

Getting shanghaied into attending a harvest festival across town until late in the evening, fazing out of reality for minutes at a time when the crowds got to be too much. Kairi buying us tiny pumpkins at the pumpkin patch. Uncomfortably long eye contact with the gold-eyed man talking to the attendant, and the split-second panic that maybe he recognized me from somewhere. 

Sora and Kairi falling asleep on each other during the bus ride home, and the rush of affection I couldn't stomp down every time I saw them. Feeling like a part of something... then worrying about what would happen when I left. Moot point now.

Thinking about it too hard is overwhelming. Starting school. The homecoming dance, Sora's birthday. Halloween, the first year I've ever done anything but ignore it. Trekking to the mountains to visit Sora's family. Winter and my first real Christmas. 

I lean back, closing my eyes, going over it all for the umpteenth time, mentally navigating the twists and turns and landing again on Christmas. I'm not sure what to make of it all. The uncomfortable, too-warm smiles given to me by Sora's relatives through the course of the week. The way they engaged with me, asked me questions about school, smiling at me, praising me. Accepting gifts that don't feel deserved and having nothing--physically or personally--to offer in return. Love and affection going straight over my head because I am incapable of taking it in and not really worth the trouble, anyway. I wonder if I was pitied, wonder if they were just trying to be nice to the poor, awkward little runaway, shacking up with his boyfriend because he has nowhere else to go. 

...Oh. 

Well. 

That ended in a darker place than I meant. 

I shouldn't be surprised. That always seems to be the way. 

Then I can't _not_ think to the psychiatrist and how much I'm already stressed by the prospect of therapy, because I can't shake the thought that I'm broken beyond repair, and I don't want anyone to know really how crazy I am, how unfixable, and I'm already angry at myself for wasting everyone's time and money. 

I don't want to face everyone at this stupid party, I just want to go away and drink and be quiet. But I can't, so I just laze on the couch and wait to faze out until things blur and go surreal. Then I don't have to worry, because when Sora says, "It's almost time!" I'm not really here. 

And I'm not all here when Sora's friends and classmates come. 

And I'm not all here as I slowly head upstairs to our room as the clock gets closer and closer to striking twelve. I sit out on the balcony, letting the bitter cold rip through my body, slowly easing me back to reality. Then it just makes me tired. 

"Hey!" For a moment I'm not sure if someone's really talking to me or if it's a product of the very beginning of a dream. Either way my head snaps up, ready to find the source of the voice. Sora. Backlit from the brightness of our bedroom lamps inside, he looks like something angelic. "It's almost midnight." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah, in a few minutes. I'd really like it if you joined us again. Just for the countdown, at least." 

It's not worth arguing. I just nod my head and let him help me out, let him hold my hand the way downstairs, let him shout "Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" Too close to my ear in an eerie tandem with all of his party guests. And I let him kiss me after the one mark, the joining of lips, mouths, tongues, amid screams and shouts and the popping of noisemakers. For a second, it almost feels like it was for us. All of this. Every celebration and the existence of time and space, all to bring the two of us together. 

...it's not a terrible way to start the new year. 

Really not bad at all. 

I stomach socializing for the next hour, until people start to leave for home. I let Selphie put a stupid party hat on my head, I let Kairi fix me a drink and don't even particularly miss the alcohol. I talk school sports with Tidus and Wakka, and I let Sora hold my hand as he beams, unabashedly telling the whole world he's glad I came down.

I'm glad I came down.

This whole down period was probably nothing to worry about. It always seems like it'll never end, but it always does. And when I'm back to normal, the world seems a little bit brighter, like maybe I can do this after all. If I really try for it. And I want to try.

\ 

_New year, new me_ is a lie. Six whole days into 2003 and I'm not sleeping again, I'm restless, I'm bored, and I want to be left alone.

Mr. Hart takes me to a psychiatrist the first weekend after the new semester starts, and the whole time I feel like I've been conned into this. Sitting in the car, stewing, then sitting in the waiting room, nervous, and being in the doctor's office, where I'm pelted with questions I don't know how to answer. 

Do I feel sad? Do I ever want to hurt myself or others? Do I have hope for the future? How much? On a scale from 1 to 5 how often do I cry or sigh or lash out? 

How will any of this help me? Does this person sitting in front of me have any idea what she's saying, what it means for me, how belittling this is, how ask if I feel "isolated" is like calling the universe "small"? 

In front of Sora and Mr. Hart, I'm asked mundane questions about my upbringing that I can't answer truthfully, if I've always felt like this, when these feelings started. Can't mention Nathan in front of Mr. Hart, can't mention the panic attacks in front of Sora, can't tell this stranger anything about anything. 

She asks me if I've ever experienced something traumatic. If I've been violated or assaulted or abandoned. I feel Sora's stare, his unbreaking gaze boring holes into me. 

"No," I tell her. 

"Alright," she says, neutrally, jotting notes on a new page. 

The car ride back is almost as quiet as the ride there. I'm still thinking too hard and too deep. I wish Sora hadn't shown up. I don't know why he mistakes his nosiness for moral support. I don't know why Mr. Hart made this a family event. I don't know why I didn't speak up, tell them to let me go alone and I'd give them the highlights later. 

Yes I do. It would be a waste of energy. They don't trust me. They always have to get deep into the little facets of my life, to tear me apart until there's nothing left.

"Well," Mr. Hart says with a cheer I almost find offensive. "Who's hungry?" 

"Starved!" Sora says, turning back to me and grinning. I look out the window as we pull into a fast food joint that I know I won't be able to stomach. Food and I aren't friends right now. 

When we get the so-called diagnosis the following week, I'm not surprised they decide to call me anxious and recommend medicating me immediately. 

Something, something, apple not far from the tree. 

\ 

The first medication makes me sick at night. 

I'm up until 1AM, 3AM, 5AM. I sleep in all day, too hopeless, too weary to get out of bed. 

Mr. Hart tells me to give it time. That I'm adjusting. And for the next few days, he gets me up out of the bed and drags me downstairs to keep an eye on me probably because I'm crazy and I can't really be trusted to be alone. But I don't care because my mind is clouded over I'm in this deep fog and I can't think and it was almost better when I just hurt all the time but for the time being I just try to sink into the blankness. 

One week later, as he arrives back from work, Mr. Hart offers a smile and says, "So, okay. That one's not working. We'll figure something out." 

Like it's so simple. 

I glance over at him from the couch and go back to the homework I can't concentrate on. 

Take two.

I'm not blank anymore, but the second combination of pills kill my already-idling sex drive. Sora touches me or kisses me or rubs against me and I catch the signals, but I feel nothing, and I try so, so hard but nothing happens and it all ends with Sora getting off me at the end of the night, dejected and unsatisfied. So I have to tell Mr. Hart and my doctor that yeah, it's not working and yeah, we need to change it and yeah I know I was seeming better but I just can't, okay? 

The third try. I'm awake but indifferent, I can't write, I can barely finish homework, I don't pay attention during class. I wake at night in a terrified panic, and I dream about people, and places, and a smiling face and dark hair. Even when I'm not sleeping. 

It feels like years before Mr. Hart asks if it might be better to wean me off of the medication for a while. It might have been. Years. 

Taking a dosage less a day, then a dosage less a day, takes too much time. 

At the end of February, I stop taking my medication. 

/ 

The slow fade out of winter is marked by me hugging the toilet, retching nonstop while a terrified Sora asks if I need a doctor. And it's marked by this permanent ball of anger that sits in the pit of my stomach, and this all-encompassing fatigue I can't shake. Such a fucking joke. All of this. There's a level of crazy a person can hit where there's no helping it, and I sky-rocketed past that point when I was barely thirteen. And now I'm never gonna be wired the same again, which would be a relief if I thought that these changes were an improvement. But as it is, I lash out and I shake so badly that even my classmates notice it enough to ask if I'm okay. If at any point I'd just died instead of ending up like this, that would've been better. 

I should have known better than to mess with it. Now I'll never go back to normal, back to what I knew how to handle. 

Sora isn't loving my new attitude. I get it. It's not like I want to feel this shitty all the time as I wait for the last of the chemicals to get out of my system, but in the meantime Sora keeps giving me these big, heartfelt speeches, which weren't cute when we were runaways and aren't cute now. His voice is like a nail applied directly into my skull via a hammer. Every time I've ever thought I don't want this or he couldn't get any more intrusive or I want to be left alone seems to pale in comparison to this. I don't know how many times I tell him I just need a second before he'll give me a second, how many times I feel like I beg him to leave me alone, leave me alone, before he'll believe me-- 

"Hey, Riku, I just wanted to check in and make sure you're still doing okay." Yes, yes, I'm okay, it's been five minutes, nothing has changed. 

"Hey, Riku, can I get you anything?" No. No. No. No. No. 

The next time he throws the door open I lose it, screaming. _What? What is it? What do you want from me?_

He stares at me from the doorway, hand on the knob, brows furrowed and mouth downturned. 

"...Sorry," he says. It should bother me more, but I can't care right now. I feel like I'm moments from an explosion. Waiting. He squeezes at the doorknob, moving for a moment as if he's about to turn and finally leave, then stops in his tracks, staring down at the carpet. "Actually—no. I get you're going through stuff, okay? But don't talk to me that way. I've been putting up with this for a month without saying anything, but now you need to get your shit together. Don't yell at me again." 

I shoot up from the desk chair, where I've been trying to write to no avail for the past two hours, and we're toe-to-toe, I'm towering over him. He looks up at me, standing tall, challenging. 

"Get out," I say, dangerous and low. 

"No." Sora's eyes narrow, his grip on the door knob tightening until his knuckles fade white. "It's my room too. You can go out on the balcony." 

I could fucking throttle him. 

"It's February," I hear myself reply. "It's wet outside, I'm not sitting in a puddle just so you can--" 

"Figure something else out, then." Sora squeezes in past me, and I don't know why I follow him as he walks to his end table, yanking the drawer to grab something inside. Maybe it's to chuck a pillow at him, hard, hard enough that it throws him off his center of balance. "Fuck!" he gasps, whirling around. "Riku--" 

A shirt on the ground that gets tossed his way, and it'll be my notebook next if he doesn't fucking book it. 

"You—you're out of control," Sora tells me, holding his hand out in front of him when I approach, backing out of the room. "Shit—leave me alone!" 

He stomps out of the room and I'm hot on his tail, chasing as if I need to be sure he's really gone. Sora reels back, growling for me to leave him alone, but when has he ever, ever, ever done the same for me? 

I brush past him, suddenly desperate to leave the house. When Sora calls after me, it's all I can do not to just reel around and smack him. I grit my teeth instead, hands balling into fists, barking something back at him that I can't even recall a second after it comes out of me. All I know is that he stops in his tracks on the landing, mouth pulled tight, eyes watery. 

I continue outside. 

Well, it's quiet now. My throat hurts from shouting but other than that, I don't feel much of anything. Sora wants to cry... let him cry. 

I hightail it out of this fucking neighborhood, slamming the button for the crosswalk when I'm a block down and not nearly far enough away. 

"Riku," Sora calls behind me. A whip-fast glance over my shoulder reveals Sora's vague form, halfway down the street and already coming closer. My heart pounds in my throat. If he catches up with me, the whole world is going to fucking end. 

Unable to even look at him, I turn on my heel and rush blindly out into the street, the screams from pedestrians and squealing of brakes barely even registering in my mind. I just need to get away, I need to go to the beach, I need to be as far away from Sora as I can possibly be. 

When I start, I don't know how to stop. The shifting, sinking sand doesn't stop me. The icy water licking my toes, my knees, my waist, my shoulders doesn't stop me. The first wave crashing over my head doesn't stop me. If I keep going things will change. If I can keep going forward, everything will change. I live here now, I'm going to live here now. There's so much waiting for me. My eyes are closed but I see the fish. My parents bought me a stuffed fish when I was still little and unhurt. I always wanted to see the beach and someone told me they'd take me. His face is clear and he's yelling at me. When I get cold I can feel it, being grabbed and my hair being pulled, and there was always someone bumping me or hitting me. It's cold and Sora is so much warmer. I have trouble feeling warm. 

Everything makes sense. 

No. 

I will never go back to normal. 

So I might as well end things here, before it can get any worse. For anyone.


	21. Picking up Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

Riku's an idiot. 

About half an hour after Riku made a scene in the middle of the street and nearly got himself killed, the worrying became too much to handle. I actually called Dad, who was trying to put in extra hours at the office, asking for his advice--and his solution was to pack up and come home. 

And so the search for Riku commenced. 

We must have driven around in silence for twenty minutes before I suggested that we go to the beach—the private beach, the one Riku snuck us both into a handful of times when we first started living here... much to Dad's disapproval. But it was the only thing I could think of, the only place I thought Riku might go to be alone. The only place he'd run off to. 

Ha. I say "run to" like he ever has a destination in mind, but he's only ever running away. Usually from me. 

We arrived quickly, only to find Riku collapsed on the sand, dripping wet, lips blue. We got him in the car somehow—probably through sheer adrenaline--and, while Dad was driving, I got on the phone with Sandy, listing off his appearance and symptoms with a dreary dullness, like I couldn't even get up the energy to be terrified. 

I can't stop playing it in my head. What he looked like seemingly moments from death. How cold he felt as we got him into the house, the way his half-lidded eyes couldn't quite come to focus on anything. 

Today was a nightmare. The entire year been a nightmare so far... but at least he's awake now, and alert. If I weren't so jittery and still angry, I'd maybe laugh at the way he looks all bundled up in a chrysalis of blankets and sweaters. It's a really good thing we caught Sandy... she really knew what to do to get Riku back to normal as quickly as possible, and I'll be forever grateful for the way she dropped everything to rush over here. She saved us a hospital trip, at the very least. 

I can't even bring myself to sit in bed with him. I pull up the desk chair and plant myself at the bedside, struggling even to make eye contact with him. I'm not really sure what to expect from him anymore. I don't want to try talking to him if he's just going to flip out and start calling me names again. 

"Sora..." he mutters, questioning. From the corner of my eye I can see him lean slightly, head cocked, trying to catch my attention. For what feels like the hundredth time today, I start to cry. No, not cry; I'm sobbing, wailing like a kid. I feel so helpless. Why can't I help Riku? Why is he acting like this? 

Why does his pain destroy me? 

"How could you be so stupid?" I burst, my voice an undignified falsetto as I berate him. "You could have died!" 

"I'm sorry. For everything." 

Two sentences. But they seem to make everything a little bit better. 

"It's okay," I tell him, even though it's not. I just don't have the energy not to forgive him right now. 

"...I stopped taking my meds," he says after a beat of silence. My brows furrow. 

"Yeah, I know that. When Dad said the doctor wanted you to taper off. I was there, remember?" He shakes his head, leaning back against the pillows heavily. 

"No. I mean. I quit cold turkey. I just... stopped taking them." 

"…Oh." Well, that makes a lot more sense, given his shitty disposition these past few days in particular. His exhaustion, his rages. His unexpected 180s. "You're not supposed to do that." 

"Yeah. Now I know why." 

"Stupid." 

Riku smiles the realest, most sincere smile I've seen on him in a long time. One of his hands limply hangs over the side of the bed, so I take it in my own. I let myself look into his eyes, and in them I see warmth. I see the Riku I know again. 

He's back. 

"Can I ask you a question, or is that gonna make you mad?" I try to sound level when I ask. Not accusatory, just... patient. Or, as patient as I can be right now. 

"...You can ask." 

"Do you think you're gonna be okay?" 

"I don't know." 

I don't know how to respond to that. In a way, it feels like the first honest thing he's ever said to me. I was so excited when Riku said he'd be willing to try therapy, to try medication. I thought it was a huge step toward recovery, which he desperately needs. But... it just seemed to make things worse. I don't get it. 

"Would you be willing to try again? With the medication, I mean." 

"I really don't think that would be a good idea, Sora." He gives my hand a weak squeeze. His hands are so cold. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm really trying." 

"I know you are." 

Maybe the fact that he was willing to try is still a step forward. Maybe it's still a good sign. It's not like I missed the physical effects the antidepressants had on him, like a heightened version of what happened when he took the St. John's Wort at my.... er... forceful recommendation. And it's not like I think that pills are some magic solution: they change the entire way your brain is wired, and it can take a long time—years—to get it totally right. If I really put myself in Riku's shoes... I guess I can see why he wouldn't want to make things worse for an indeterminate amount of time before they get better. Not with things already so bad. 

Besides... he really was scary, on that last one. He always seemed on the verge of something... wrong. 

"Your hands are warm," he says. So is the rest of me, Riku. I want to crawl into bed with him and wrap my arms around him until I can melt off the chill. But then, doesn't that really sum up all I've ever wanted to do? Just be able to send him my love until he starts to feel better? "...I'm sorry for anything I might have done or said that I can't remember, too. The only thing I really remember of the past few months is being really, really tired." 

"You seemed tired," I tell him. I swallow hard, throat feeling tender and raw, and try to get comfortable any way I can. I lean back in my chair, pull my left ankle over my right knee. I don't let go of Riku's hand. "You seemed..." 

"Crazy," I think I hear Riku murmur under his breath. I don't have the energy to correct or placate him. 

"You ignored me a lot, and when I tried to talk to you you'd get mad. Even when we went to bed at night, it was like I wasn't even there." I sniff, hard, but miraculously I don't start crying again. "I knew you'd have to adjust to—everything, but... I wasn't expecting that. Things went completely back to the way they were when we first met, and I thought we'd have to start over. I was scared." 

"Scared," Riku repeats. "...of me?" After some deliberation, I find that I can't unpack that enough to give him a real answer. Our last fight—a few hours ago, but it feels like longer—was nasty, and I wasn't kidding when I said that he was completely out of control. That was scary. But I didn't feel like I was in danger. 

That's the thing. At the end of the day, I trust him not to ever harm me. I don't know if that means he doesn't scare me, and I don't know if that means I'm not scared of him sometimes. 

"Oh." Riku's voice pulls me back into the room, and when I glance over, he isn't looking at me. 

"I'm not scared of you," I say. "But I don't ever really know what I'm going to get with you. Sometimes I really need you and you're totally distant." I shake my head. "Less now, but that's how it was at the start. I feel like I'm always just getting to know you, then you change..." 

He draws a long breath. 

"Well... nothing I ever do seems to make you happy. I tell you everything, and you turn around and say I don't tell you enough. Over and over. I don't really know what else to do." He says it evenly, seriously, but gently. If he had snapped at me... I don't even know. I think I would've lost it. "I'll never be enough for you." A tear rolls down my cheek, hot and salty. 

"It's enough. You're enough. I'm sorry. I'm the one who can't figure out how to fix anything ever. If I hadn't fought with you, you wouldn't have--" He squeezes my hand again. 

"You're not responsible for me, or my health, or my happiness," he says. "...That's your first mistake. You're taking all of this onto your shoulders, but it isn't yours to fix. I know how you've seen me since the start. Like I'm a project—don't argue, we both know—but it's not that easy." 

"I want to help," I squeak, voice weakened by this new round of crying and hyperventilating. 

"You are. We just need to be better about listening to each other. What we actually say, and not what we think it means." A huge, ugly gasp tears from me when I try to breathe in, and lost for words I just nod. "Sora, if--" 

"You're up!" Sandy calls. I start, whirling around in my seat, not quite sure when she opened the door. I wonder what she heard... but Riku would've seen her come in and said something, so I'm guessing not a lot. 

Riku's hand slips from my grasp as she walks to the bed, thermometer in hand. He shoots me a humorously-exasperated look when she pushes it in his mouth, politely regarding her when she reads off the temperature. "Almost back up to normal," she says. "You're really, really lucky that Michael and Sora found you when they did, Riku... but I'm sure you know that, and there's no point in guilting you. We're going to put some soup on and bring it up when it's ready. Until then just rest up, okay?" 

"Okay." 

She flashes a quick smile, leaving us alone. 

"Can we talk about our fight?" I ask. His grip on my hand tightens. Only for a moment. "My mom threw stuff at me when she was mad. I dunno. I just wanted to say that." Riku opens his mouth, but it's another couple of seconds before he says anything. 

"...I was going to say. Sora, if I ever do anything to make you afraid of me, if I ever hurt you, don't stay. Don't fix it. Just go." 

For a split second, I regret saying anything. I don't know what I thought would happen, but this isn't the road I wanted this conversation to take. 

"It was just a pillow. It's not a big deal." 

"It was more than just a pillow, Sora," he repeats, looking me straight in the eye. "If I ever hurt you again, go. We both know what would happen if you didn't." 

His scars seem to shine in the dim light when he flips his arm. 

"You aren't capable of that," I tell him. 

"...I'm sure there was a time my dad thought he'd never hurt me. And your mom, too." 

Weak, I bend at the waist, resting my head next to him. He strokes my hair. I know things have been rough recently, and today he crossed a line. But more than anything, he's good and gentle and he protects me. Always has been. Always will be. 

"You would never," I whisper. 

We fall into a long silence, punctuated only by the awful wheezing sound that escapes sometimes when Riku breathes out or in. 

"Riku," I say, swallowing hard. "What you did today... was that a suicide attempt?" I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. This is the question that's been on my mind since the beginning, one that I've been pushing away because a "yes" would change everything. Honestly, a "no" might change just as much. 

My hand clamps down on his as I wait for his response, which comes as he shakes his head slowly. "I remember fighting with you, and heading into the direction of the beach... then it's blank." I squeeze harder, only loosening my grip when Riku sets his other free hand on mine. "I don't know if your dad told you, but sometimes I black out. It doesn't happen often, and I don't know what happens when it does." Eyes wide, all I can do is shake my head and stutter a stunned reply. 

"...no, he never told me... when did you tell him that?" 

He ignores my question, ticking the fingers on his free hand. "The first time, I was thirteen and I woke up in the hospital. I'd slashed my arm. I don't know how." My eyes go wider, if possible. Gee, that sounds familiar... "The second time..." He looks up at me, confirming what I already knew. So he had some kind of breakdown. And the whole time I thought he was just being coy, telling me he was trying to make sense of things, changing his story... he really didn't know. I can't imagine how scary that must have been for him... and I wouldn't stop badgering him about it, when I'm sure he just wanted to forget... I wish he hadn't lied to me for so long... "The third time was a few months ago, during that afternoon I just... wasn't in the house. And then today." He slumps against the pillows, eyes closed. "I don't think it's a good sign. That I had one years ago, then three a few months apart. I don't know what it means for me, except that things are getting worse." 

"We'll figure it out," I tell him, suddenly certain. 

"I wish you didn't have to put up with this." 

I shake my head. "Hey, you put up with all my bullshit, I put up with yours. Fair's fair." 

He scoffs, beginning to trace a line on my hand with his thumb. 

"Yeah," he says. "Except you never have any bullshit to put up with. So." 

I crack a grin, even though it feels more unnatural than I can even describe. "Please. I'm bullshit personified. You get some rest and I'll bring up some of that soup for you." Stiff and clumsy I stand, leaving a laughing Riku behind me. 

I head downstairs feeling tentatively good. That was a hard talk, but it was needed, and I'm looking forward to putting this whole thing behind us for once and for all. 

Dad and Sandy are speaking in hushed tones when I make it to the kitchen, so engrossed in conversation that they don't seem to notice I'm here. 

"--hypothermia?" I catch Dad murmur. 

"Without a doubt. His temperature was about five degrees lower than healthy by the time I got to him, and that was after you'd gotten him home in the car with the heater going. Good thinking, by the way." 

"At least it sounds like he's coherent again. Do you think there'll be any lasting damage?" That's when I walk in, about to ask how the soup is coming along. Dad smiles, not-so-subtly telling Sandy that they'll finish their conversation later. 

"No," I say. "I want to know what's going on--please?" 

They sneak a glance at each other as Sandy moves to toss the vegetables into a pot. 

"Well," Sandy says after hesitating for a moment. "I don't think that there will be any long-term effects. He seemed coherent, like you said, and he seemed to be able to move just fine. What do you think caused this?" 

"Well, he was in the ocean," I say. They exchange another annoying adult-look before Dad responds. 

"Sora, she meant why he tried to drown himself." 

"...Oh." 

I only listen to them theorize for a couple moments before I jump in. 

"He said he wasn't trying to kill himself," I say loudly, purposely speaking over them. "He said he blacked out. He doesn't remember what happened." 

Then we're all quiet. Until the soup's done, no one says a word--and even then, it's just Dad telling me to serve Riku and myself up. 

I try to let Riku's intention—or lack thereof—be a comfort to me. Riku doesn't want to die... but I still don't know if he wants to live. And those aren't the same thing. 

*  
In the evening, I fall asleep sitting up in my chair, propped up next to Riku. Even taking a hot shower with the pressure on full blast doesn't pound the stiffness from my back and neck, so I guess I'll have to sleep this one off. Not a huge surprise... neither is the sniffing and coughing coming from Riku's side of the bed when I emerge from the bathroom, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt—about the maximum effort I'm willing to make today. 

"Need anything?" I ask. "I'm heading downstairs and can get you more soup." 

The Riku-shaped lump under the covers comes to life slowly, flailing to push tangled sheets from his legs and the extra blankets from his face. He looks a little zombie-like, all pallid and weak, with dark circles under his eyes. Yeah, if anyone would benefit from some veggie soup... 

"What time is it?" he asks. 

"Almost noon." He's quiet for long enough that I think he might not respond at all. I wonder if he's delirious, 'cause he looks really distant, a little out-of-it. 

"I miss when I could wake up early," he says finally. "So sick of wanting to sleep." 

...Er. I don't know what to do with that. 

"You'll get there," I tell him. "Do you want soup?" 

"...Yeah. I guess so." 

Well, that was a lukewarm response. But better than nothing, I guess. 

I head downstairs, pulling the leftover soup from the fridge, still in its pot from last night. I turn up the heat and wait for bubbles, my mind a blank fog. A blah. I'm so damn tired, my brain still trying to churn through everything that happened yesterday, all my new knowledge. Is it better, knowing that Riku's sicker than I could have ever realized? 

...Yeah. I think it is. Knowing is always better. He can be helped. No one's ever too far gone—especially not Riku. He's the strongest person I know, and he's gonna get through this. He'll only be better for it, I just know. 

I head back with two steaming mugs of soup to find a sleeping boyfriend. I'm not sure if he needs sleep or food more, so I just give him a gentle, tiny shake and let him know that lunch is ready. Then it's back downstairs with me, off to watch TV while I slurp down the broth. I like saving all the solid stuff till the end. I feel like Riku would tease me about it; Donald always did. Thinking about it pangs my chest. The only thing I want is to goof around with Riku again. I want all of this to be over. I want him back. 

Dad shuffles down at almost 12:30, looking tired and a little more ruffled than I've ever seen him. I wonder if the past month was as bad for him as it was for me. I wonder if either of us can ever comprehend how bad it must've been for Riku. I know for sure Riku doesn't realize what this puts me through... and not even in the way he thinks. The way I worry about him for him, not me. 

It's all a mess, but we're going to get through it. We're already getting through it. 

"'Morning, Dad!" I call from my place on the couch, watching him start as he pours the last of a batch of coffee I can't remember even making into an old mug he uses a lot. 

"I think you mean 'afternoon'," he says, joining me on the couch. "How are you?" 

"Fine," I reply reflexively. But I think it's true. "You look tired, Dad." 

"Well... I'm definitely tired," he says. "How's--" he motions upstairs with the flick of his head. "That one doing?" 

"Riku's okay. I think he has a cold." 

"Well, if that's the worst of it, that's not so bad." Dad lets out a long breath, takes an even longer sip of coffee. "That boy," he says. Doesn't elaborate. He just stares ahead, thinking, and it gets me nervous. 

"...he still gets to stay here--right, Dad?" 

The wheels in his head must really have been cranking, because he looks a little confused for a second before responding, like he needs to decode my question. 

"Of course. Sending him away isn't even an option. It's not on the table." He sets a hand on my shoulder, leaning to place his mug on a coaster. "I know there's no use telling you not to worry, but eventually this is all going to be under control. Things are going to be okay." 

"I know! I keep telling him that, but--" Dad silences me. 

"Sora. I am telling you that things are going to be okay. This situation is for Riku and I to figure out. Okay? I don't want you to feel like any of this falls to you." 

"But--" 

"I don't want you to spend so much time taking care of Riku that you forget to take care of yourself." He gives my shoulder a squeeze, rising from the couch and saying something about making another pot of coffee. 

"You too," I call back, but I don’t know if he hears. 

* 

I watch TV through the better part of the afternoon, letting what Dad said marinate in my head a little, but its meaning blurs into all of this new knowledge I've amassed through the past few days. Mostly, I just want to check up on Riku and make sure he's okay. So, I head upstairs when I'm at a stopping point between movies, finding that the hall seems longer than it usually is, which means I'm a little more tired than I thought. Again, no shock there. The real surprise comes when I twist the doorknob only to discover that it won't budge. 

"Riku?" I keep twisting, hoping that I just lost my grip the first time and that it's gonna move if I just keep at it. Then I'm pushing at the door, heart leaping into my throat. Given his weird behavior this past month, and its cause, I have a bad feeling about this, I really don't want him left by himself--"Riku? Riku!" 

The telltale click of the lock turning is my cue to stop panicking, but even then it's not until I get a good look at Riku, all tousled and tired, that I feel like I can calm down a little. 

"What?" he asks, words muddled. He sniffs hard—maybe too hard, because a coughing fit follows. 

"I just came to check on you and the door was locked. I thought..." I trail off. I don't know what I thought. 

"Sora, just go back downstairs. I'm sick, and I don't want you to get sick, too." We don't break eye contact for at least a minute, engaged in this sudden stare-down, each challenging the other to break. I'm sick of being kicked out of my room, but I get that Riku's actually sick and needs the space. I put that on my laundry list, to address sometime when I actually have some energy. 

"Let me know if you need anything." I leave with that little statement, knowing he won't no matter what I say or where I am. 

* 

I go to school on Monday feeling like a different person. Older and more solemn. It takes a week for me to get back into the groove of things—socializing with my friends without feeling like they fundamentally don't get me, letting myself remember that grades are important right now. Riku is out sick for three days, and still sniffling and coughing when he returns at the end of the week, with mountains of homework to finish. His own grades have taken a plunge, so now he has to dive right back in and fix everything. I admire him, but I don't envy him. 

It's the end of the month before I feel like the timing's right. This is such a petty, insignificant thing but... we missed Valentine's Day. With everything going on, neither of us even thought about it. But I want to do something. I want to celebrate my first Valentine's Day with my boyfriend. I really, really want that. I broach it after school the Wednesday after he's back, which gives him time to recover and be a little less overwhelmed by schoolwork. He's brusque at first, giving me a vague "I don't know" before that melts into a "Yes." 

Given the look on his face the whole conversation, I have a feeling that the usual "chocolate and flowers" deal isn't really gonna be his thing. 

Maybe if I make something for him. 

"So... next Saturday?" I confirm. 

"Yeah," he responds, sliding his hand over mine. "That should give me enough time." I lean my head onto his shoulder, sneaking a kiss against his neck. 

"Hey," I say. I love you wants to come out. "Thank you" does instead. 

"It's nothing," Riku says. Then, "I'm looking forward to it." 

We lean in for a kiss at about the same time, and it's quick and casual, like nothing was ever wrong between us. 

* 

I spend Saturday cooking and baking. Dad's got a thing with Sandy today, although a part of me thinks that he's just making himself scarce so Riku and I can have a little something resembling romance on our makeup V-Day. It's nice of him for sure, but a part of me is wondering if I'm gonna get The Talk tomorrow. 

I wonder how that'd even work, given the different, er, parts involved. Gross. Hopefully Dad just leaves it up to me and the internet to figure out... 

Anyway, for the better part of an hour, I watch timers and re-read cooking instructions, just trying to make sure that nothing burns or gets forgotten. I'm totally in the zone until Riku sends me a text at about four, telling me he's heading back home from the library. All goes well, he should be here before five and we can hang out before I start plating things. I run the mental inventory again: salad and dressing, check. Risotto, in process. Sugar cookies, done and wrapped. Appetizers, in the oven. His card is written. I'm all showered and smell good, I've been eating mints all day as if we don't make out all the time. 

And just in case anything more happens... well, I didn't throw out the condoms Dad gave us ages ago. 

While I wait for Riku, I straighten up the living room, setting up placemats and silverware, throwing a short little potted plant into the center of the table to give it that extra hint of fanciness. 

I know he's gonna like it, but... I really hope he likes it. 

Even though I'm expecting him, my stomach still gives a nervous little flip when I hear the keys in the lock at the door. 

"I'm back," he calls from the entry, sliding off his shoes. I don't even remember walking out of the kitchen, I just know that we're walking toward each other, and we meet in the living room when I'm wrapped up in his arms and kissed. My hands find his waist as I tilt my head up and just lean into it. The last thing I want is to pull away, but the timer on the oven goes off, so I have no real choice but to slip out of his grasp and tend to things. Behind me I hear him shuffle, and a quick glance from the corner of my eye tells me that he's fishing around in his backpack for something. 

When I'm done pulling out the turnover-covered cookie tray from the oven with a mitted hand, he's there across the counter, a folded page of notebook paper between his pointer and middle fingers. His free hand cradles his head. He looks casual, comfortable, as he watches me scramble. 

"Can I help with anything?" he asks. I shake my head, checking the Risotto on the stove and giving it a quick stir. Almost done. Another ten minutes, probably. Maybe fifteen. 

Letting out a breath, I meet back up with him at the counter."...Hi," I say. Probably should have greeted him first, but... 

"Hey," he replies, and flicks his wrist, effectively handing me the paper he's holding. I take it from him, and instantly find myself fighting this stupid lump in my throat that forms. He's made me a card from scratch, an intricate pattern composed of lines and hearts and little crowns, centered around a simple message:  
Sora –  
Happy Valentine's. First of many.  
-Riku 

Every letter is deliberate and precise, a few steps up from his already pretty nice handwriting. It's like, caligraphy, all fancy and stuff. This would have taken hours to make, putting my store-bought card to shame. And even more than that, it's hopeful and optimistic, more than I typically see from him. 

First of many. Hell yeah, it is. 

For a split second, Riku reaches for it like he regrets letting me see. 

"It's not a big event or anything," he says, surveying the mess that is the kitchen, eyes scanning the dining room. "And it didn't really turn out the way I saw it in my head. If you don't--" However that sentence is going to end, I'm not interested in hearing it. 

"It's perfect," I tell him, placing my hand over his. I already know he thinks it's not enough, that I did more than him, that he thinks he's somehow taken something away from me. That's been a really weird aspect of his personality to wrap my head around, but he seems to constantly see himself as some kind of blemish on my life. But I wouldn't ever want anything more than this, it's perfect. Especially knowing how he was tormented my his classmates for being creative only a few years ago... I wonder if he even realizes how much I pick up on the vulnerable position he's put himself in. I look in his eyes, very clear and deliberate when I say, "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me." 

He just smiles, shaking his head. He doesn't quite meet my eyes. 

I rub the top of his hand with my thumb, only stopping to pull it up to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. We're quiet through the stretch to dinner, just enjoying each other's company without having to say anything. When the second timer goes off, signaling that the Risotto's good to go, I shoo Riku to the dining room and switch off the heat. The turnovers have cooled enough to eat, so I set them on a few small plates along with some salad. I'll jump up to serve the main course once we're done. With the Risotto pot still covered, it should stay hot enough without continuing to cook. 

Damn, I'm kind of impressed with myself for pulling this off. 

Riku compliments the pastries, which leads to my awkward little confession that they're store-bought. 

"I did everything else though!" I assert. He cracks a grin. 

"I'm sure they'll be just as good." I'm sure I'm glowing. His compliments make my day; I wonder if I'll ever reach a stage they don't. 

"How was the library?" I ask. He stares at me for a beat, with that little smile on his face that means he thinks I'm acting funny, or stupid, or a little of both. 

"Good," he says. "Quiet. Books. The usual." 

"Oh, shut up!" Like that he's laughing at me, and I grin and bear it with only a little irritation until he's done. "Did you get a lot done?" He nods. 

"Yeah. I'm starting to feel caught up again. In a lot of things." 

He means us. "Good!" 

"Yeah." 

We join hands whenever we don't need both, swapping school stories as we finish up our appetizers and dig into the main course. I one-up his fire in chemistry lab with a dead rat in English that derailed the lecture for twenty minute as we debated whether it was real or fake, until one kid got brave enough to poke it with a pencil and determine that it was real. For every one of my Kairi stories, he has one too, now that she shares a class with both of us. I really hope he's starting to warm up to her... I feel like the three of us could be a great match, if he'd just get past himself for long enough to get to know someone. 

But that's not true, is it? There's that mysterious group of friends I don't know much about. I haven't heard about them in forever. Maybe they don’t even hang out anymore. 

It isn't until we're finishing up, just after dinner and right before I break out the cookies, that I broach a slightly uncomfortable topic that's been on my mind these past few days. 

"...Oh. Hey. This might not be the best time, but I've been thinking about our arrangements for a while," I say, maybe a little vaguely. He looks up at me, head cocked a little. It's really, really cute, and I don't think he even realizes he's doing it. 

"Hm?" 

"I was just... wondering if you still like sharing a room with me." I give it a beat for a firm yes or no, just to gauge how opinionated he might be about this. When no response comes, I blaze ahead. "It gets awkward when we're fighting or one of us is sick, and I don't really want it to be something we fight about. So I thought, if it's easier..." 

"Do you want to?" he asks finally. I open my mouth, sputtering for a moment, because all of the thoughts in my head want to get out at once. 

"I mean... I really like sleeping next to you," I land on first, because that's the most important. "And I like the stuff we get to do together because of all the time we spend the two of us." I go red when his face changes again, to something a little uncomfortable. I don't think I'm alluding to what he thinks I'm alluding to. "Not just like—that kind of stuff—but getting to see you first thing when I wake up, and just sitting around doing nothing in the same room. I like all that stuff. But it's also kind of a bargaining chip when things get rough between us. I kind of wonder if it's better if we both have a different place to go." 

He squeezes my hand. "I don't want to move. I will if you think it's for the best. But... I kind of like what we have." 

Somehow that's exactly what I wanted to hear. "Okay!" 

His eyes tilt off to the left as he continues thinking. "As long as it's not being used, I'll take the guest room downstairs if anything's going on that might make us want to sleep in different rooms." The smile he sends me next is slightly crooked. "I think if your Dad had it his way, that's where I'd probably be full-time." I let out a small chuckle. 

"Probably. He's never said anything to me about it, though." 

"Yeah, me neither.... Hey. Riku." 

"What?" 

"I really, really like what we've made for ourselves here." 

When he smiles, his entire face lights up. "So do I." I'm grinning like an idiot as I jump to my feet, taking our dirty plates and silverware to set in the sink. 

"Dessert time," I call, taking the sloppily-wrapped bag of cookies from the counter as I make my way back to the table. It's like I watch him realize it's a present in real-time, as he glances over to me, noticing that I don't have a matching bag, and looks back over to his. 

"You didn’t have to go to the trouble," he says, pulling the ribbon. The foily paper stays stiff until he pulls the corners down, revealing a handful of small white cookies dusted in powdered sugar. I hope he likes it... I got a faceful of the sugar-cloud when I was working, which sent me into a coughing fit for like, five minutes. 

"I wanted to," I tell him. "And it wasn't any trouble." He gives me one more small smile before popping one in his mouth—and then the coughing starts. Small at first, mostly hidden in the crook of his elbow. Then it's loud, ugly, and he turns away, and the only thought running through my head is some mix of Does he have allergies? What did I put into these? Did I just kill him? And Come on, they're not that bad! "Riku?" I call, hovering at his side. I hand him his glass of water, which he drinks down quickly. The coughing subsides little by little, and not nearly quick enough to give my heart the cue that it can stop pounding, already. "Are you okay?" 

He nods, taking the rest of my water when I pass it over to him. 

"Yeah," he says, voice breaking a little. He coughs one more time, righting himself. "I inhaled powdered sugar. My fault." I let out a long breath, collapsing in my chair. 

"I thought I killed you." 

He shakes his head. "Would've been my own doing. I probably shouldn't have taken a breath in when I did." Then we're laughing—or, I am, and Riku's got a kind of laugh-cough mixture thing going on. "It was really good, by the way. I'm sure I'll like them even more when I learn how to eat without choking." 

"Never too late to learn," I say, which for some reason sends us both into another stupid fit of laughter. He stands, tilting his head for a sec; my cue to follow him over to the couch. 

"Your dad's out for the night, right?" He asks. 

I nod. "Yeah. So we have the house to ourselves." 

He leans in and kisses me. 

For once, I'm still. I respond but I don't take the lead, I just let him do what he wants to do, because he never just comes in and takes what he wants, to the point that sometimes I don't even know what he wants. I don't think he really does either. But this is nice, his lips on mine, the way he urges them to part enough to swipe tongue, how seamlessly we can go from talking to laughing to this. 

Riku pulls away, gasping for air, before attaching his mouth to my neck. A little moan sneaks into my shaky exhale, overwhelmed by the feel of his hands low on my waist, one clutching the fabric of my shirt, and his leg shoved clumsily between mine. He only breaks away from his hot, wet kisses to murmur something into my ear, the feel of his panting breaths almost distracting me to the point that I can't make out his words. 

Or, word. 

"I..." He says, and I capture his lips in a kiss, gently nipping his bottom lip before letting him finish. "--Sora, I..." He sighs, long and loud, easing me down on my back. I respond in kind, wrapping my legs around his torso and pulling him down with arms clinging around his neck, kissing his stupid face as he struggles to spit it out. Our hips meet almost accidentally as we both shift at once, and it's like stars colliding in my vision when I rub against him. I will never get tired of this. 

Confident in the thought trying to escape from him, and us, and our future, I finally say it: 

"I love you." 

He pulls away, looking down on me, and I can't stop from smiling. It feels so good to finally say... I've been feeling it for such a long time, and I'm longing to hear it back. 

...Any moment now. 

"...Riku?" I ask, pulling myself up as he sits back on his heels; one of his feet slips on the couch cushion, and he slams it down on the ground to right himself. And he's on his feet, breathing hard. It all seems to play out in double-time, or maybe my brain just slows to a halt. "Riku!" I repeat. 

"Sorry," he says, and without another word he slips on his shoes and walks out the door. For several long minutes, all I can do is vaguely register the sound of the clock ticking on the wall and stare at the blank space where Riku stood moments ago. 

I don’t know what just happened, but I do know that I fucked up. Big time.


	22. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku makes a series of discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riku's POV.

I panicked. 

But to be fair, I don't know why Sora would ever, ever say a thing like that to me. It plays out in my head over and over, and all I wish I could do is block it out. His warm body, his soft skin, the smell of his hair and feel of his mouth ghosting my neck when he says it. _I love you._

I love you, he says, like it's no big deal. I'm not prepared. How could I ever be? Why would he say that, what made him think that was a good idea?

For not the first time in this relationship, he leaves me confused, petrified. I don't know what it means that he feels so strongly for me... or, at least, for him to think he does. I don't want to hurt him, I so desperately do _not_ want to hurt him, but I do, I do at every turn, I just can't stop... I don't want to hurt him, I don't want to hurt, this is all such a fucking mess that should never have—I should have just tended to Sora and left when I first saw him, I never should have even learned his name. 

Why is this so hard, so much harder than anything I've ever experienced? At least when I was a kid I knew what to expect, it wasn't all momentous highs and returning lows, weeks at a time of happiness, certainty, and then... this. 

Maybe this is all too much for me after all. Maybe I don't really belong here. Maybe I can't juggle everything as well as I was beginning to think I could. I don't know why Sora is so ready for everything and I'm still behind, still struggling, trying my best to catch up but falling short again and again. Can I even face him, after he bared to me everything he felt and I ran off? 

As always, I return to the beach, sitting in sand and watching waves. It's the only place I can think of where I can be trusted not to make horrible decisions. 

Or, it was, at least, before I ruined that too. 

I slowly fall to my knees, drop forward, spread on my stomach. This is how they found me that day, Sora and his dad. But I was cold and blue and dripping wet-- lifeless. Maybe it would have been better to leave it at that. 

No... I can fix this. I should fix this. If I just turn back now and apologize. Just tell Sora how I feel for once. Maybe this can be easy, if I let it.

He loves me. He loves me and I believe him but I don't get why. I want to stay with him, I want to love him back, but... I don't know the best way to move forward and how things will change... but... this is what Sora has been clamoring to get me to open up about. The little insecurities that I don't think are worth sharing. 

Fuck. I think I need to talk to him about everything. And I know he's going to tell me not to worry but that's not how I operate. 

"Hey," when I hear a voice from behind me, it's so timid and warm I almost expect it to be Sora come to find me, to apologize for a mistake that isn't his. But it isn't, so for a split second I wonder if I haven't just found the owner of this little spit of sand and water. But the voice is too young, too friendly. Not quite my age, maybe a little older, but only by a few years. I rise, ignoring his next question. "Are you alright?" 

I'm frowning before I can think to stop. No one else is supposed to be here—this is private property. Even I'm not supposed to be here. If I end up losing my only place outside the house to just _be_ , to another trespasser nonetheless, I'm gonna be pissed. 

Quietly I continue brushing off, and I debate whether I should even dignify that with a response. I'm allowed to lay around in peace, or should be. Damn it. 

My eyes flick up at last, and I catch a face that I shouldn't know. Not in a million years. 

But I do. 

Tall and lanky, dark hair, dark eyes. 

I know him but I can't place him... he's more than a face at a half-remembered party, but not enough to be someone I run into on a regular basis, a cashier at the corner store, a casual acquaintance. 

He blinks, eyes wide, just as surprised as I am. But why would he be surprised? 

"...Riku?" he says, very, very tentatively. "Riku Imakura?" I say nothing; I have a feeling that my answer will depend on who this guy is. I back up, wishing he wouldn't take that next step forward. And the next one. And the next. "Do you remember me?" He swallows hard. Licks his lips. "Have you ever lived in a place called Darry?" 

Air is stolen from my lungs. It all hits me at once, a tidal wave washing over me, rushing me. Indecipherable. Yes. Yes, I know you, and you know me, and I wish more than anything I didn't. I could lie to him. But I'm tired of lying. 

My nod is stiff, small, and I find that I can't meet his eyes anymore. 

"...Zachary Noah," I say. The name is familiar in my mouth; it's all disgustingly familiar. 

He grins, laughing, and I don't know whether to tense or loosen. 

"You got it! 'Zachary Noah'.... man, that's a blast from the past. No one calls me that anymore." He shrugs easily, smile wide. "No one really called me that in the first place except you, if you want me to be really honest. But you weren't really a nicknamer, were you?" I back away, trying to make space between the two of us. Why is he standing so close to me? Why won't he stop standing so close? "Anyway, I finally decided on Noah. Sounds more professional. Less hick, anyway." 

My flight or fight sense seems to fizzle, and I'm stuck, standing in my place with my arms wound tightly around me. I can't run, it'll seem like I'm afraid of him. 

I am, though. 

Well, here I am. Scared of him again. Great. 

"This might be a stupid question but... how are you? Riku... wow. We all thought you were dead." He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath, and I'm scared of what's going to happen when he lets it go. The last time I saw him, he was spitting fire. "I can't believe you're okay." 

"Not dead" is true. "Okay"? That's negligible. But he doesn't need to know that. 

"Are you..." he continues. "I mean, do you have a place to stay?" 

"Yeah," I tell him with a conviction, a strength, I don't really feel. "I live with my boyfriend." His eyes pop open, landing on me. I'd rather disappear than have him keep looking at me. It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when I wanted his attention. 

"Oh! Well... that's great! God, I'm just so relieved you're safe." 

Stop. Stop that. Stop pretending that you've ever cared about me. 

My eyes narrow as I stare at the sand below us, but if he sees, he doesn't let on. 

"And you're happy?" he asks. "You look... you look a lot better. Healthy, I mean." 

"The happiest. The healthiest. I have to go now." I bite down an apology. I'm not sorry. Not one bit. 

I turn away, hardly paying attention to the sand sprinkling off my clothes as I walk, making me feel like some sort of molting bird. Not the most dignified way to be reintroduced, but. We didn't exactly leave each other off on the most dignified of terms, either. 

I don't even need to look behind me to know that I'm being followed. I swear, if he touches me I'm going to have a panic attack. 

"Wait!" he calls. I'm just glad that my wince doesn't turn into a full-body flinch. "Riku, it's been three years since I last saw you, we can't just leave it like--can't I just talk to you for one minute?" 

"I have to go," I repeat. Neither of us break stride, even as I pick up my pace, treading expertly through the sand, just trying to reach the gate, the open gate... he's calling out to me... I just want to be safe, I want to be with Sora... 

"You don't have to, Riku, but if you're willing... I really want to see you again." 

No. 

You don't get my trust or forgiveness or a moment longer of my time. Not after everything that happened. 

\ 

Sora's curled up on the couch when I walk in, glued to his phone. The keyboard's slid out from the bottom and he's typing quickly. The rims of his eyes are red, like maybe he's been crying, or about to start. Because of me. Every single time. 

"Hey," I call softly from the entry, closing the door gently behind me. That I have the control not to just slam it and stomp my way upstairs... well, it might be the closest thing I have to a victory all day. 

"Riku!" Sora calls, setting his phone aside him on the couch. He sits stock still as I approach, moving his phone to the coffee table so I can take the seat next to him. "I—wasn't really thinking. I shouldn't have assumed—maybe... it was too soon?" 

"Stop." His eyes are wide after I say it. I'm sure he can't gauge what's going to come next but really, it's just that I can't stand to hear him apologizing for... that. "It's okay. I'm sorry I freaked out. You didn't do anything wrong." I set an open hand on my lap, palm up—an invitation, if he wants to take it. It's predictable, then, that Sora chooses to set his hand on mine, lacing our fingers as a shaky sigh spills from his lips. 

"You don't have to say it back," Sora replies. "Not if you aren't ready. Or... if you don't feel the same way." 

Do I love Sora? Can I? Is it something I'm even capable of? 

I feel like if I can feel that way about someone... it could only ever be with Sora. But that needs to stay private for now, I think. I don't want to open the door for misunderstandings about something so huge. 

"I really like you," I say instead. "I want to be with you. And I care about you... more than you'll ever really know, I think." It's amazing that my pithy, lukewarm statement puts such a smile on Sora's face. He deserves so much better than me. He deserves someone who'd say it first, at the very least. 

He deserves better than what I got. 

My mind whirs. 

Zachary Noah. 

Noah. 

Why here? Why now? 

"Hey," I tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. "I have a headache, so let's talk more later, if you want." Sora nods.

"Okay. I hope you feel better." 

"I will." 

When I'm upstairs I somehow manage to change into fresh clothes before crashing. I have so much work ahead of me, and it's so daunting. It's true, I guess, that you can remember how a person made you feel even if you can't remember what they did. It's almost funny. So much of my past is just a blur of actions and words; it's been so long since I've been in the thick of it, since I've truly had the chance to ruminate on it. Sure, if Sora pried enough I could come up with the occasional anecdote, but I've been so busy with just about _everything else_ it's hard for me to get a clear image. I just think of Zachary Noah and remember silly, childish crushes and _hurting_. 

In my mind I picture him, and I come up with the image of someone a few years younger with short, shaggy hair and a wide, white-tooth grin. 

If I concentrate hard enough, I remember a boy who smiled, who was unwavering in his kindness, who was admired among teachers and classmates, cool kids and losers, and me. 

I remember sitting on his floor and listening to records, eating ice cream together, sleepovers. I remember the way he worked and worked at me for a solid month before I said yes to that first invitation to hang out, and the bright look on his face when he thought he was helping me. 

Yeah, and how long did it take for that to go sour? 

His voice plays in my mind: _I noticed you were alone a lot so I wanted to say hi. I used to be alone a lot, too._ But it's drowned out by that same voice saying _get away from me_ and it's drowned out by _stop talking to me_ and it's drowned out by _freak_ and it's drowned out by my own constant inner monologue of _I don't trust you, what do you want from me, why are you doing this for me, why are you doing this to me._

If I really try, I can recall him walking up to me during a passing period and introducing himself. I remember walking away from him, because I knew who his friends were, and I knew how they felt about me--how _everyone_ felt about me. I remember his absolute insistence for days on end that we needed to hang out sometime, and I remember hurting so bad because I knew how it would end, but saying yes because I couldn't take him asking anymore. 

There was a night together, clear in my mind now, and we were sitting on his bed listening to records, I was reading something he handed me, and he lay next to me, leaned in close and told me to close my eyes and open my mouth. I said no. He was mad. He didn't say it, but he was mad, it showed in the way he pulled away from me, from the stream of air he puffed through his nose, the way he said _Okay. Fine._ so sharp and terse. I was thirteen. Far from being ready for what he was promising me and where it would lead.

And that was only the beginning of the implosion. In hindsight, that was the start of the end.

For a kid like me who didn't have anyone, those short, six weeks of friendship meant everything. To me, he was the entire world. But things weren't the same for him—they couldn't be. 

I wonder how much of that pain impacted my relationship with Sora. I wonder if it always will.

/ 

Sora notices that something's up, because of course he does, and I don't know if I'll ever really get it through his head that it's not about him, really, unless I tell him about my encounter not even an hour ago. And I will, I just... need to come to terms with it first.

I don't know if I blocked him out or if somehow I managed to forget... but I don't know how I could ever forget what it feels like to be so utterly and completely betrayed. 

But I hang out with Sora downstairs anyway, relishing the kind of domesticity of it all, wanting nothing more than status quo when my entire world is being shaken. So needless to say, I'm distracted as we watch TV—I can't fully concentrate on his quips that always rotate between funny and annoying depending on my mood—and I know he notices, but that's fine, because eventually he'll know why. 

"How's your head?" Sora asks, suddenly. 

"Yeah, fine," I reply, thankful for the easy out. "I might just have to sleep on it." I give him a little nudge on the shoulder. Gentle. "Hey. It's not about what happened today. I feel good about our relationship, alright?" He lets out a breath, relaxing, shoulders low and body soft.

"Kay," he responds, clutching my hand. His fingertips are warm. Somehow through all this I'm thinking about kissing him, and I think it's safe to bet that he's usually thinking about kissing me. He confirms my thought when we enter our room a few minutes later, door shut tight behind us though we could leave it open if we really wanted to, I suppose, with his dad gone for the night. "Hey, Riku. While things are already super awkward between us... can we talk about sex?" 

I try not to tense too much, but I know he can feel the way I stiffen up. I could say no, but I owe it to him to have this conversation. Still, it's... weird. Knowing now that Sora thinks about this stuff in relation to me. I wonder if he always has, before we even really knew each other that well, and the thought twists my stomach oddly. I don't know what to make of it. 

"...Okay. Like what?" 

His hand slips free of mine, and he sits on the bed. He looks at me, but not straight-on. Not in the eyes. He chews at a hangnail, he shifts, he avoids eye contact some more. 

"Like... the fact that I want it with you. And I can't tell if you're interested." I was about to sit down next to him, but I change my mind. But just looming over him feels awkward, so I take the desk chair and spin it around. With the chair always positioned low enough to accommodate Sora's height--of lack thereof--we end up roughly eye-level. "I know there are a lot of things you aren't ready for, and that's fine, but... we should talk about it, right? Be on the same page?" 

Now I'm the one who can't look at him. I can't chase the idea that I shouldn't be so blindsided. This is what couples do. 

I can barely hear my own response. "I guess that with... everything going on... it just hasn't really been on my mind. Sorry." 

He jumps onto his feet, only to reach out and touch my hand. Then he's sitting again. 

"No, don't apologize! That's fine, I totally get it! But I was wondering if... maybe some time in the past you've thought about it, or if you think you'll know when you want to..." 

"Honestly, I just really haven't thought about it, Sora." 

"Okay!" He smiles over at me, and I look at him, and for nearly a minute we take part in this impromptu staring contest. Then he speaks. "So... are you like, not into it, or..." 

"I said I don't know." 

"Okay." He's quieter the second time. I've subdued him again. I need to stop doing that. I need to stop, period. "...I won't bring it up again if you don't want, but... when you're interested, can you let me know?" 

"...I don't know if--" 

"I don't mean that we'd drop everything and do it right then and there, but... I want to get this right. It's gonna change our relationship forever, and I want it to be for the better." 

I play it in my head, over and over. It'll change our relationship. 

Right. Of course. He's always trying to change our relationship. Strangers to friends to boyfriends, to whatever comes next. He says I'm enough. I know him better than that. 

"What do you think will change, Sora?" I ask. He opens his mouth, but doesn't reply. Even he doesn't know. An ugly part of me knows he just wants to get off and get going. He's getting impatient. He wants to go. He wants this first. 

No. No, that's not true, and that's insulting to Sora for me to even suggest. I'm not thinking of him, I'm remembering someone else, someone from my other life who wants and takes and leaves. 

Sora says he loves me. And he might.

But we're always having these talks, and our relationship is always bordering outright dysfunction, and that's us, that's Sora and I to a tee and always has been. One of us is defective here; it's probably me. It's usually me. 

It's me. 

"I kind of want something that's just ours," Sora says finally. "I mean--yeah, I think it's going to be fun when we do it and that's great and all, but you know how I feel about you." I can't stop staring at his hands, the way he wrings them nervously in his lap. "I wish I could show you sometimes. That's all." 

"...Oh." 

"But it's okay if you don't want to. When... if... we do, it's going to be really special, and that's how I want it to be." 

Special. 

I'm trying to believe him.

"You mean a lot to me," is the only thing I can get to come out. It hurts, knowing that's good enough for him. He deserves more. 

I should just do it. 

If Sora wants it so bad, I should just suck it up and do this for him. It's literally the least I can do, and it really doesn't cost me anything, all we need to do is start kissing and let it go wherever it'll go without me there to say stop. 

But he doesn't want it that way. Or so he says. God. It's so confusing, I don’t get it. 

"Hey," I say. It gets his attention, his head tilting up as I approach, our lips meeting. "It isn't about not liking you," I mumble against his cheek. "It isn't about the way I feel about you, it isn't that I'm not—attracted to you, or..." 

"I know," he says. "But... it does feel good to hear anyway." He rolls onto his back, letting out a long stream of air from his mouth. His chest rises slowly, falls a little quicker. 

"I'll be sure to tell you, then." 

He grins at my words, throwing an arm over his eyes for a nap. 

Easy.

I head downstairs for water and something to eat, just about to settle in at the kitchen counter when the doorbell rings. It'd be weird for a solicitor to drop by so late at night, so it's safe to bet that someone's looking for the house down the street or something. Wouldn't be the first time. 

I set down my apple and stride to the door, throwing it open and—oh. 

"Zachary Noah," I breathe, immensely unimpressed. I should slam the door in his face but I shut it behind me instead, suddenly intent to keep him as far from Sora as possible. "You followed me." 

"Good to see you, too," he replies jovially. He must realize I'm not playing along with him, that I'm not fucking joking, because he dares to sound sheepish when he comes clean. "...Yeah, I hopped in my car when you left to see if I could scope out your neighborhood. I didn't think I'd narrow it down to a house, but when I turned around I happened to see you through the window. That guy you were with—that's the boyfriend, I'm guessing?" 

My teeth are grinding. 

"What are you doing here?" I bark. He sighs. He has the nerve to sigh. 

"I just wanted to talk to you, Riku. I hope that's okay." It's not. Go home. "...Look, if you're mad about what happened, I get it. I just want to say that I'm glad to know you're alive, and I hope you're doing okay. That's all." If I'm mad about what happened! As if he isn't directly responsible, as if he had no say-- "I really think we should talk about it. Maybe not here, but I live just a little deeper in the city if you have the chance to drop by. I'm pretty busy with med school, but I'm happy to make time." 

Fishing in his pocket, he hands me a scrap of paper with an address and phone number scrawled in pencil. I should crumple it up and throw it back in his face, but I don't. I just clutch it in my hand and quietly seethe until I can force something, anything, to come out. 

"Don't act so innocent," I tell him, tightening my fist around the small scrap. "And don't tell anyone where I am." I turn on my heel and throw the door open, slamming it in his face behind me. 

Just before it closes, I hear him say, "I won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hm. OCs. I've been of two minds about this chapter honestly since I first posted it all the way back in 2007 or whatever. At the time of my writing, the KH universe just didn't have that many characters to play with, so I had to pad a bit. I really toyed with the idea of filling my guy in for someone canon, but in the end decided that I would have to make too many changes on changes to make anyone else fit. idk. Still undecided, I think.


	23. Year One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora and Riku celebrate an anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iiiii'm just gonna bump this up to M to be safe. Same level of graphicness, different activity. May eventually go up to E, but for those who don't like smut I'll make it skippable and clear in advance.

Riku slams the door when he comes back in, so hard it rattles the windows and the paintings on the wall. It startles the hell out of me, but I seem to get him back when he notices that I'm on the couch, visibly jumping when his eyes rake across me. 

"I thought you were asleep," he says brusquely. I feel chastised for some reason, like I wasn't supposed to see that he left or the way he leaned with his back against the door for a good thirty seconds when he came back in, his breaths heaving and face flushed. I can't decide whether or not to say anything. 

"Who were you talking to?" I decide on, finally. I pose the question lightly, so he doesn't feel like I'm interrogating him or anything. And I'm not, I'm just curious. 

"No one." 

Yeah, I'm not buying that. 

"It looked like you were fighting," I say. 

"It was no one, Sora." 

This is an unexpected end to the night, for sure. Even more so when Riku takes a seat next to me on the couch, giving my knee a gentle squeeze and planting a kiss on my cheek as if nothing happened. 

"Do you want to play something?" he asks, flicking his head to the gaming systems hooked into the TV. 

"...Sure," I respond, jumping to my feet and flipping one on. The TV's next, and it comes to life with the game menu already on the screen. Given Riku's mood, I think we should skip multiplayer—I don't really want to get caught up in some competition at the end of an already-tumultuous Valentine's Day. So I pick an RPG instead, something long and involving that Riku and I were super into a few months ago but had to put on hold while he was so sick. 100% or bust. 

I glance up at Riku as I untangle the controller cord. I can't shake the image of the guy he was arguing with from my head. Even from my tiny glance out the window, he looked a few years older. As in, post-grad, legal drinking age, the whole nine yards. I wonder if he's the one who got Riku drunk that one time... I wonder if he even realizes that Riku's underage. 

The idea that Riku's drunken night at the end of last year could have been a misunderstanding is a load off my shoulders, that's for sure. One less thing to worry about if it's true. 

"Hey, Riku." 

"What?" 

I chatter at him on my way back to the couch. "It's okay to get into fights with your friends. I don't know what's going on, but I'm guessing that that's one of the guys you've been hanging out with for a while now, right? I'm sure you'll patch things up no problem." 

He just laughs, dark and low, shaking his head as I hand him the controller. 

"Thanks," he says. I plop down next to him. 

"Sure!" 

I watch him punch the start button to skip past a long intro, bringing us back into the main menu. He hits start again and the screen goes black, background music starting up and loading text in the corner. I wonder where we even left off on this one... 

"We knew each other in school," Riku says finally. Huh. Okay, I was off—can't be that much older, then. Maybe he's a Senior? 

"What, like you had a class together last semester?" I ask. He shakes his head. Okay, now I'm lost, unless Riku somehow met a bunch of kids from another school at some point without me knowing. 

"My old school," he clarifies. "From my hometown." 

From his...

Shit. Oh, shit. Riku... I can't imagine what he must be going through. I'm amazed he's even keeping it together now. 

Damn. When did this happen? And how? And why? 

"Was he mean to you?" I ask, gripping my ankle hard as I bring my legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch. 

"It's complicated." 

My grip loosens and I lean back, limp against the backrest, legs unfolding slowly. That's the last answer I was expecting. From everything he told me, he didn't have friends. He was bullied and ostracized and had no reason to ever stay. So how does this guy win the title of "complicated?" 

"I told him not to tell anyone I'm here," Riku says next, voice almost masked by the sound of hacking and slashing from the TV as enemies begin to appear on-screen. 

"What'd he say?" I ask.

"He said he wouldn't. I guess we'll see about that." 

I guess we will. 

I hope Riku knows that come hell or high water, I'll fight to keep him here. I don't care what I have to do. If anyone finds out that he's here and tries to mess with him or make him go back to Darry, they'll have to go through me first. 

* 

Well, whatever I thought would come out of Riku's weird reunion with that guy never materializes. February gives way to a quiet spring, March and April come in a flurry of small showers punctuated by the odd day of warm, sunny weather. Riku seems to be doing well. He's been pretty upbeat again, with only the occasional down days. He's been chalking it up to the sun and his suddenly thriving social life, which makes sense to me. It seems like he's gone all weekend at least twice a month, and as much as I wish I could be included... it's a good thing for him to have his own space, I think. As long as he keeps coming back to me, smiling with me, laughing with me, I can't really complain too much. I love him, and I don't regret telling him. 

What I'm looking forward to most is the end of May. Not just because that will put us into the two-week countdown until summer, but because it's gonna be a really big milestone: a year since I ran away, and a year since I first met Riku. A year since I cheated death and started a journey that would teach me how to live. I can't think of a better anniversary, and if Riku thinks he'll get away without celebrating... he's got another thing coming. 

Aw, look at me. Getting all sentimental. 

It's just that I'm so grateful every day: for living in an amazing city, for going to a school I like, for being out, for being surrounded by people who love me. I'm proud of us. We've both changed so, so much and then there are days when I crack a lame joke that makes Riku roll his eyes, or I go in for a hug and he pushes me away, that I realize we're still the same people we were a year ago. And I'm still so into him, still have the biggest crush on him, and he's still the best friend I think I could ever have. 

It's hard pinning Riku down for a date, which isn't a total surprise. First we plan for dinner the night of, but I have a test the next day I'm kind of nervous about and I can tell he feels uncomfortable taking me away when I'm distracted. So then it's Friday night, but Riku backs out 'cause he's all freaked out about a presentation he has to do on Monday and wants to spend the evening at the library polishing up all his research. I totally get it, and it's all good. I'd rather have the Saturday lunch we've now planned go smoothly than go on a more timely date with a Riku who's distracted and down on himself. 

If anything, _I_ should be down on him. Going down, I mean. 

But no sex. No sex is fine. Again, better to do it in the future than rush in and regret it. I mean... I know I wouldn't, but he might, and I'd never want that. 

When I wake up Saturday, somewhere around 8 in the morning, Riku's already up and has been for a while from the looks of it. His hair is damp and he's dressed, a steaming mug of tea on top of the dresser. He's writing. Wonder if he'll let me read it finally... probably not. 

"'Morning!" My greeting is also an advance warning that I'm up, so when I approach him I won't get an elbow in the stomach again like that one time. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing my cheek to the back of his wet head, the floral smell of his shampoo radiating off him. He closes his notebook, a hand sliding over one of my own. 

"I'm sorry I've been blowing you off the past few nights," he says sheepishly. He gives my hand a squeeze. "And good morning. When do you want to head out?" 

"Don't sweat it," I tell him, giving him a little squeeze back before pulling away to get dressed. As usual, Riku stays firmly concentrated on basically anything other than me as I start pulling off my pajamas. Then it's clean underwear and a t-shirt and shorts—the nicest of each item I have to offer. 

You know. Just in case. 

We spend a lazy morning together, cuddling in bed before a quick oatmeal breakfast. I can't seem to let go of his hand; luckily, I don't think he wants me to. 

I float through the early hours of the day nostalgic and happy, but a little sad, too... so much of our shared history is sad, our story one of two lost, forgotten boys who found each other in their darkest hours. But what we've made out of it is really something special. I love him so much, and I know he loves me too—even if he hasn't figured out how to say it yet. 

I can barely stand to pass through a room with him by my side without capturing his lips in a kiss, running my hands up and down his back, savoring the sound of fabric rustling against skin whenever I do. 

We head to the same little place we grabbed lunch at all those months ago, when we were wandering around, checking out all there was to check out. It's hard not to smile as I remember the warm sun, the cool breeze, and throwing French fries at each other until we were asked to leave. It's not fancy but it brings back memories, and that's what I think we're going for today. Not getting caught up in bullshit, just being happy with each other and eating too much. Keeping things easy and casual. 

"Let's actually not get kicked out this time," Riku teases as we walk inside, pushing the door open so I can dip inside. I laugh, vaguely embarrassed by my fourteen-year-old idiocy in hindsight. 

"No promises." 

Riku makes an intrigued sound, quiet and low, kind of flirty. "Look who plays by his own rules now." Warmth floods into my face. 

"That's right." 

We head up to the counter side-by-side, the first in line during a sudden lunch rush, and place our orders without fuss--a double decker bacon burger for me, a cheeseburger for Riku, no tomato, and the biggest fries and drink size they have to split between us--and before Riku can even pull out his wallet I slap my cash on the table with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. 

"You didn't have to do that," Riku grumbles as we take a seat in the far corner of the building. "I owe you." I roll my eyes. 

"No you don't." 

Riku shakes his head, crunching a brown paper napkin in one hand. 

"I blew you off," he says. 

"You saved my life." 

That one shuts him up. I think he's beginning to realize that this isn't a fight he can win. 

I give him a slightly too-sweet smile as a server sets our tray, filled to the brim with food, on the table. 

*  
We're cuddling on the couch when the phone rings, annoyingly enough. Surprisingly, it's Riku who rises to get it, untangling his limbs from mine and kissing my neck before he goes. I hear a "hello?" and a beat of silence before the receiver slams down. Riku reemerges a couple seconds later, looking irritated but not outright angry. 

"Who was that?" I ask, frowning. 

" _No one_ ," he replies, wordlessly helping me up off the couch, and we head upstairs. 

I wait until we hit that top step before asking again, throwing in a little something about how that was a pretty extreme reaction for no one. 

"It was Zachary Noah," he says. So mystery guy from home has a name... and Riku's number. I don't know how I feel about that... 

"Wait, has he been calling you?" I ask, already on pins and needles. The last thing I want is for some creep from Riku's old life coming back just to shake things up. It's taken a long time for Riku to get where he is now, and he still has a long way to go. None of us can afford Riku being sent on another downward spiral, Riku least of all. 

I unintentionally squeeze his hand as he says, "Once." 

"What did he want?" 

Riku shrugs. "I don't care. I hung up on him, and I'm going to keep hanging up on him until he gets the hint." 

"Oh." The idealistic part of me wonders if the guy's so insistent 'cause he feels bad about whatever complicated thing happened between them. The more mature part knows that that's only one of many possible motivations, some of which are mean and nasty.

A sudden thought occurs to me. 

"If I pick up the phone and it's him, what do you want me to do?" 

"...Give the phone to me," Riku responds solemnly. 

"What, so you can hang up on him?" I'm teasing a little, hoping to lighten the mood, but he's still serious. 

"Yeah," he says after a moment of thought. "I just don't want you t--to end up in the middle of this." For a second, I thought he was going to say he didn't want me talking to him. Maybe he was. "You have to understand... Zachary is a really charming person. But that's all it is: charm. He's smoke and mirrors." 

"Riku..." 

I wonder if he thinks I'd somehow end up on this guy's side over his, about... whatever it is that's gone down between them. 

"It's not important," he says firmly. "I just want to lay low for a while." 

I give his hand another squeeze. 

"I understand. But you can tell me more whenever you're ready." 

He smiles, kissing me as we lead each other to the bed. 

"I know." 

I nudge him onto the mattress, swinging a leg over his hip, straddling him and flattening until our bodies are flush together. Then we're kissing, and I don't want to waste a second, just want to taste him, urge his mouth open and swipe my tongue against his. Our kisses are sloppy as Riku kneads at my sides, fingers bold and exploring. He swipes a palm over my ass and squeezes; a squeak bursts from my mouth and I look down at him, beaming. He's never been so forward with me, and honestly sometimes it leaves me kinda touch-starved. But I'm really liking this Riku. A lot. 

I give him an encouraging little moan, then his second hand joins in, rushing and feeling and groping, and soon I can't even control the sounds that come out of me. I'm panting in his ear, not even caring how desperate I must seem. The thick denim of my jeans dulls the sensation of his hand as it grasps my inner thigh, sitting there as he threads the other through my hair, lips brushing over my face... I really need these clothes off. Now. But that would mean moving... 

I wait until he takes a breath to push myself up, supported by a shaking arm, unzipping and loosening my jeans. It'll be the shirt next, though, if Riku's willing to give me a hand. 

His eyes rake over me, which only ignites this spark in my gut. I could really get used to the way he's looking at me, all glassy-eyed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the way he yanks me down on top of him, the way he mumbles, near-incomprehensible, against my cheek: 

"I don't even know—I don't know what you do to me..." 

Hell yeah, I do it to him, and I jut my hips against his body so he can feel exactly what he does to me, too. He sighs in return, pressing his leg up between mine and I give an experimental little thrust. 

Oh man. Sparks—everywhere. 

"Riku--" I cry, but it's half muffled as Riku kisses me again, and again, getting me all senseless and breathless. He moves under me, rubbing against my hard-on in a way that I think can only be intentional until he pulls a blanket we've been laying on over our bodies. Maybe that's what gives me the courage to kick off my pants, and for Riku to grab the hem of my shirt and tug, pulling it over my head as we roll onto our sides, holding each other close, lips connected like a lifeline. 

We're comfortable and natural up until the point I start working off his belt, which makes him tense up for a second, but he relaxes into it in time. I feel him watching me from the corner of my eye, which makes me slow a little, unsure. I look up at him, questioning, and he sends me a nod and a tiny smile. 

All right, let's do this. However far it takes us. 

Unbuckling his belt still takes me a few moments, but it's really important to me that Riku doesn't lend a hand. So I just sort of angle my body in a way that's a little closed off, blocking him a little, because seriously, I can do this, I swear... 

Finally! Damn, that felt like it took a hundred years. I press a kiss to Riku's lips, one last just-in-case chance to back out, before yanking down his jeans. I'd love to have the discipline and patience to tease him and get him even more worked up, but some lethal mix of desperation and giddy excitement win out. I paw at his erection, both of us gasping a little at my nerve, and mentally I'm trying to size him up a little too, feeling the outline straining against the cotton of his underwear. I'd be lying if I said I haven't been wondering about his dick since... maybe a little sooner after we met than I'd like to fully admit to myself. 

Guh, and he's hard—the hardest I've ever felt him. 

I slide my hand up just a few inches, fingers playing against the waist of his boxers. Our eyes meet; I dip a single finger beneath the band and push slightly down; he sighs, bracing himself with a hand on my shoulder and forehead leaned against mine, and I start working off the last of the clothes on his lower half. 

I swallow hard, heart pounding so hard I'm surprised it isn't reverberating sound waves against Riku's chest. Under this blanket he pulled over us he's naked, and he's gonna let me touch him... I can't mess this up, I can't afford to... 

Balking slightly, I take him in my hand, flicking my wrist in a familiar rhythm. It's weird, doing to someone else what I usually do on my own. I just try to take it slow, to not grab him too hard in my nervousness, and try not to get all in my head about how this is the first time we've ever done anything like this, together or with anyone else... I'm so lucky. I can't forget that. I'll never forget it. 

"...Sora..." 

My name is uttered as something between a whisper and a moan, sending a chill down my spine. He clutches me hard, maybe hard enough to bruise, his mouth agape and eyes shut tight. It's so good. So, so good. 

I stop only to pull myself out of my underwear, taking us both in hand to the best of my ability and stroking clumsily. He clutches harder; I throw a leg over his hip and just go for it, only missing a beat when he lets me go, death-grip on my shoulder replaced by a gentle hand on the back of my neck. 

While he strokes the skin there, I start experimenting and stroking and rubbing and really doing anything to make sure he keeps on making that amazing low, guttural purr that escapes whenever he exhales. 

I want to take this moment to tell him, again, that I love him, but I completely forget when I see his eyes blink shut, squeezing as he lets out a little helpless noise. He clutches the blanket, and like that, we're spent.

We pull away, lying flat on our backs next to each other, blanket still over our waists. 

I can't believe we just did that. 

I want to ask a million questions, to talk to him about what we did and what that means. But I don't—I just lay my head against his shoulder and breathe the scent of his hair, letting him shift an arm under me and pull me closer. I tell him I love him, and I'm met with the same vague, uncomfortable response I've come to expect since the first time I said it. That's okay. I won't make him say it yet. He already showed me, and we have plenty of time.


	24. Bombshell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku is forced to confront his past traumas and present choices.

I'm slowly becoming accustomed to the idea that Sora will still like me even if I'm completely open with him. 

Color me slow. But I guess it's easier to see the acceptance in action, rather than the hypothetical, theoretical promise of it. 

I'm doing my best. I feel a little less like an impostor, like I'm somehow tricking Sora into this relationship, now that he knows I have the occasional nervous breakdown and now that he knows what it looks like when I do. He knows I considered leaving him and his home, he knows that I was bullied and abused, that I read and write for fun, he knows my routines and habits and flaws and more flaws. As of last week, he knows how I come, white-knuckled and struggling to catch my breath... and now I know, too, because of him. He knows it all—almost—and it's made our relationship easier. It's made my life easier. Happier. Lighter. I know from experience that this won't be permanent, but I'm going to enjoy this long as it lasts. 

There are just a few things that I'm not really sure how to share with him, Zachary Noah among them. 

To his credit, Sora hasn't asked much. Thankfully. I don't know how to tell him that this ghost from my past has such a strong grip on my thoughts, I don't know how to describe our relationship, non-relationship. I don't know how to tell him about the man who stole some of his firsts. Not the ones that count, I don't think, but who knows how Sora will feel when I tell him about Zachary. He's going to think I lied to him. By omission. I want to tell him the truth, and I know he wants the truth, but... it's all more complicated than that. 

In the meantime, Sora technically knows that he exists. That's more than I would have afforded him a handful of months or—God forbid—a year ago. I'm going to tell him the full story, maybe next time he asks, but hopefully before he gets the chance. I want to share this with him—I think it's for the best, like maybe he can help me make sense out of all of this or at least lick my wounds a little. He's always good for that, even if it takes me a while to recognize it sometimes. I'm trying to be better about giving straightforward answers when he asks me questions, which I recognize will eventually get me into trouble if he only learns how to ask the right questions. 

Luckily for me, Sora hasn't asked if I've had anything to drink since that one night months back. Because I have, and I'd rather not lie to him about it. I know he doesn't like that I've gotten drunk at least once, but that puts him at odds with what I like, and I need to keep some things for myself. I'll do a lot for him. I can't do everything for him, unfortunately. 

I don't think I can tell him about the company I've been keeping, either, so he really needs to stop asking when he can meet my friends. 

But it's fine. I play nice, and I do my schoolwork like usual, I get the A's that keep me on Mr. Hart's good side, I hang out with Sora. I go out and booze and get fucked up on the occasional weekend late-night outing, but not enough to arouse suspicion that I'm doing anything I shouldn't be. Time moves. Slowly, but it moves.

May feels more like June here. Sometimes in Darry, it felt like ice and snow would take us into summer. But this sudden heat doesn't stop Sora and I from attaching to each other whenever we get the chance, sweat or toasty skin be damned. I lean against him while we watch a movie we've seen now three or four times and resume a similar position when that ends and we put on a video game. He hands me the controller but I refuse, more interested in watching today. And maybe the fact that I can't have my head resting against Sora's, that I can't sit with my arms around him, if I'm holding a plastic controller in my hands has something to do with it too. 

I forget how involved I get in these stupid stories as a scene kickstarts and I find myself getting all invested in the drama unfolding onscreen. 

And then the phone rings. Because of course it does. Sora looks comfortable where he is, so I take it upon myself to jaunt across the room and grab it. 

"Hello?" I ask. 

"Riku?" A laugh sounds upon my confirmation, bright and airy. "It's Noah!" It takes me a second to remember Zachary Noah's pseudonym. Damn. For a second I thought it could be someone I might actually want to talk to. "Do you have a second?" 

"What do you want?" I hiss, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I'm not talking over the TV. 

"I was just going to ask if you'd be willing to come over sometime. I'll make dinner and we can just... talk. I really think we need to talk, and I don't think we can do this over the phone. Please?" I fight the temptation to hang up, let a long stream of air from my nose. There's nothing I want less than to be in his space again, in his life again. But I don't know how long I can put up with him chasing me. 

"If I do this, will you leave me alone? I mean, no calls, no showing up at my house..." I swallow hard, fuming at him, at myself, because of the sheer amount of courage I need to stir up to make those requests. Let alone the next one. "And you can't go to the private beach anymore. I found it first, and I don't ever want to see you there." 

"If that's what you decide you want. _After_ I get to see you." I grit my teeth, white-knuckling the receiver. He still thinks he gets to set the terms. Of course he does. Am I just playing into it? Listening to everything he says again? Trusting him again? "Riku, you have nothing to lose. I promise. I just want to talk about what happened with our friendship. That's all." 

Friendship. One word has never thrown me into a rage so quickly. 

"Don't," I bark. "We were never friends, Zachary Noah. I was nothing to you, and if you think that I'm going to follow your lead ever again, you're wrong. Friendship. Fucking... you're a joke. You're such a fucking joke. We were nothing. Fuck you." 

"...this is why I really think we should talk face to face. You have every right to be angry. I know you don't need my permission, but I really, really understand. What I did to you—look. Please think about it. I'm asking you nicely." As if sensing round two of my tirade, he continues more quickly this time. "Look, I'm off tonight, and I'll be at home all evening. I don’t have another night off work or classes for two weeks, and I feel like we both might want to get this over with sooner rather than later. I'm going to make dinner for two, and if you show up tonight at my place around seven... great." 

"And if I don't?" 

"Then... I guess I have leftovers for tomorrow." His voice is too light. I'm still seething. "Just think about it. I'm sure you still have my address." 

I slam the phone down onto the cradle with extreme prejudice, wishing more than anything he weren't right. 

Fuck. 

/ 

At six-thirty I set out, the day's anticipation mounting into something like fear. I tell myself once I leave the relative safety of the Harts' that I could just go to the beach, but I continue to the bus stop. I tell myself that I could hop off early and get myself dinner somewhere, but stop after stop I remain, disappearing deeper into the city. All at once I want to do this, to finally assert my power over him, to make him feel as powerless, as helpless, as I did when he decided to publicly eviscerate me. 

I want him to know how much better off I am without him. I want to hear him out, parse explanations from his excuses as if it will ever give me a sense of closure or meaning. I want to stand him up. I want him to know that he can't tell me what to do, that I'm not one of his followers, that I don't care what he thinks. I want to not care what he thinks. I want to stop hating myself for ending up at his doorstep again. I want to stop feeling pathetic. 

Too many emotions and thoughts in my head as I climb up flights of stairs, trying to locate Zachary Noah's apartment in this vertical maze of a building. 

Anxiety and trepidation and anticipation. And questioning, and endless whys? 

Damn my curiosity. 

I stand in front of his door, angry and righteous and scared, and I don't want to knock. I don't want to see him. I don't want to do this. 

I'm not doing this. Fuck it, I'm leaving. 

"Riku!" I jolt when the door flies open, bright light from a lamp inside momentarily blinding me. Zachary Noah's grin is wide, and I want nothing to do with it. "I thought I heard someone, I—wow. I'm really glad you came. Dinner'll be ready in a second, and--" He's halfway through the small living room before he realizes I'm not following. "Please, come in!" 

Against all my common sense and personal experience, against my runaway's instinct, I step into enemy territory. 

There's a beep from the kitchenette and Zachary forgets me, rushing to the oven to pull out a slab of meatloaf, then to turn off a burner on the stove. The pot atop it steams in silence. Like me. 

He serves me, then himself, and walks me over to the small table in his makeshift dining area. His apartment is small, a studio with a kitchen and main room where he's set up a TV, a loveseat, and a small, round table with two chairs, all crammed in tight. Above a door which likely leads to the bathroom, a flight of stairs leads up to a spacious balcony where he's set up his bed and dressers. His turntable sits on the floor in the main room, surrounded by stacks of records. I tear my eyes away, the memory of sitting in his bedroom, listening to music, sudden and visceral and unwanted. 

"Make yourself at home," he says, suddenly behind me. I feel too big, and too small, and all wrong. 

I take a seat at the table, mentally calculating how close we're going to be sitting, and it makes me a little ill. 

"I really thought you wouldn't come," he says, setting a full plate in front of me. Pork, breaded and baked zucchini, and baked beans, cooked with copious amounts of brown sugar I'm sure. Very traditional. I stab a bean, watching the center spill out. Mush under my fork. By all means, I should eat. I'm starving. But I can't. "You're full of surprises, Riku Imakura. Always have been." 

He drags his chair out from the table, metal feet scraping cheap linoleum. It rings in my ear. Too loud. 

Oh, fuck. I hope I don't faze out. 

He titters nervously as my attention wanders, while I'm trying to keep my head on straight and take it all as it comes. 

"So—Riku—do you... I mean, I thought it might be nice to catch up before we jump into anything heavy?" 

"Cut the bullshit," I tell him, but I'm still unsure. I take a bite of the pork and of course it's good, and that makes me hate him a little. How dare he show up into my life well-adjusted after what he did? How dare he, to be good at everything he does and so loved and so two-faced? Why would I ever expect anyone to take my side or my word over his—ever? "What do you want?" 

"I'd really like to fix things." He sets down his fork, taking a paper napkin in his hand and scrunching it, tearing at the edges. Is he nervous? What would he have to be nervous about? 

"Why?" I ask.

He doesn't look me in the eye. Not quite. "Because..." A sigh, a hard blink. "Because I feel bad. I know that sounds too easy, but... I feel really, really bad about where we left off."

"You feel bad," I repeat. "About... what you did? Or what happened afterward? Or do you feel bad _for_ me?" He considers it, regarding me with a tiny smile. 

"All of the above," he says. Which disgusts me more: his earnestness? Or his response? 

"You feel sorry for me?" I grip my fork harder, desperate to channel this dark energy inside me somehow, but I just drop it in exasperation, fighting the urge to stand up, to leave. "You... After all this time you still _pity_ me. You think you're better than me, but you're not." 

"No, I guess proved that." The anger only mounts. I want to fight him, and he's not giving me any ammunition. "Please hear me out. I really do understand you better than you think." Not this again. "I was exactly in your position when I was your age. At the age you were when we first met, I mean. When I was a kid." I sincerely doubt that. "I didn't really have a group I fit in with, I was alone, kind of an outcast... I saw parts of myself in you." 

"Yeah," I say. "I know. This is the same story you told me three years ago, back when you were trying to groom me." His eyes go wide. 

"I—wow—No. I wasn't grooming you for anything. I'm sorry if you think I was." 

"Okay. Fine." I acknowledge him begrudgingly. If I fight him on everything, I'll be stuck here all night. 

"When I got into high school, I finally started making friends, and they started getting popular—them, not me—and I was just along for the ride, really. It got to a point where I was so scared of losing them that I followed what they said without ever questioning it. That's why, when they told me to go up to you... I had no idea what your history with them was, or that you even had one. I figured that if they saw something in me, just some queer loser without any friends, that they saw something—" 

"That they could even be interested in a nobody like me, right?" I ask, arms folded tightly against my chest. His mouth drops open, hands raised as he attempts to explain himself when we both know all he's doing is digging himself in deeper. 

"N-no! That's not what I meant. I just... thought maybe they were kinder than they liked to let on. Or—" Sensing my objection, he corrects himself. "That they were above gossip, or had a better judge of character—or—I don't know. I didn't know. They were so insistent that I was the one who needed to do it. They were convinced you..." He trails off, eyes shifting guiltily away from me. "They thought you had a crush on me. They thought you'd trust me. I didn't see any red flags there, which was stupid of me." 

"Yeah, it was." 

He cracks a weak smile. "I didn't want to believe it. That they'd use me as a tool to get back at some kid they were holding some kind of petty grudge against. When things between us started getting rough, I told myself whatever I needed to so I could believe that my friends were in the right and you were in the wrong. And when I exploded at you like that—I think the end goal was for me to get your hopes up and drop you. I think the fact that it happened in front of your classmates was like the cherry on top for them. 

But I also think... I was panicking. About everything. About graduating and leaving the only place I'd ever known, being away from my friends who'd been protecting me from harassment for years, the situation with you and I... I think that I was waiting to have a meltdown, and you ended up with the brunt of it. That was my fault, for not being able to control my emotions. I knew the second I finished yelling at you what I'd done. I tried to find you, after school, but—" He takes a long, shaky breath. "Not as hard as I should have. And then I never saw you again. No one did." 

I don't know how to feel. I'm just barely starting to remember all of this, and now I'm plunged so deep, and I don't think I gave myself to process this back when it happened. I just don't know what to do with this information now. 

That it was a joke from the start and his friends were involved is no surprise; I knew that long before he did, apparently. But do I really believe in his alleged innocence? Did he ever like me, even a little, or is he pleading ignorance to make us both feel better about ourselves? 

"...The next day, you didn't come to school, and my friends laughed about it. Then the weekend passed, and you weren't there Monday. It was about that time rumors started circulating, that you'd had to go back to the hospital." He looks over at me conspiratorially. The last thing he deserves his a confirmation, but I give him one, the stiff nod of my head. 

"Yeah." 

"After about a week when no one heard from you... everything seemed quieter. After another week, we found out you ran away. We thought you'd killed yourself. And I felt _sick_. All the time." 

I let that sit, not quite ready to feel sorry for him. No matter how convincing he sounds, I can't let myself cave. This is exactly how it went last time, me knowing better and doing it anyway, Zachary Noah seeming so sincere that how can I not fall for it, even a little? 

Yeah. Right. 

I've been burned by him before. Never again. 

"Not used to consequences, huh?" I ask, challenging him again. 

"Maybe I wasn't," he admits with a little shrug. Damn it. "I was a stupid kid and my dumb popularity got to my head. None of us knew what we were doing, what kind of impact it would have." A kid, he says. He was almost the same age as I am now, and I'd never do that to anyone. Not ever. 

"You were a legal adult," I point out. "I was barely a teenager." 

He shuts up then, finally. When he speaks again, he's coming from a different angle entirely. "If I could go back and change things..." 

"You can't," I tell him. I breathe heavily through my nose, crossing my arms. Old things I haven't thought of in ages all come up at once. And have been, since I re-met Zachary Noah. "You know, for about a week after you started talking to me everyone backed off, and I could tell they were trying to figure out if they suddenly liked me now. Then once they realized they could just keep picking on me when you had your back turned, that sealed it." 

"I'm sure if you'd waited they would have moved on eventually. That's what happened with me." 

"Moved on?" I ask. "What, to someone else? And where would that leave me, to just sit around hoping that some benevolent classmate would come around and make everyone like me? Sorry I wasn't willing to play along and hope that if I just stuck it out long enough, they'd move on to torturing somebody else. I wouldn't have wanted their acceptance even if they'd handed it to me on a fucking silver platter." 

He nods, mouth pulled tight before he speaks. "I guess I'm not sure what... I think I don't know what you want, or would have wanted." 

I _almost_ groan.

"I wanted to be left alone." I watch his face, but it doesn't move. He doesn't get it. He'll never fucking get it. "Freaku," I mumble. He looks up from his food, head cocked, slowly deciphering. 

"That's what they called you, isn't it?" he asks, a sympathy in his tone I don't want.

"Yeah, real nostalgic, isn't it." 

Zachary sighs. "I know nothing I say can help, but no one said stuff like that in front of me. I _really_ wasn't involved. I think I had a reputation of being a bit of a goody-goody. Anything that they had to say about you—or about anyone else they didn't like—they saved it until I wasn't around, because they knew I thought it wasn't funny." 

"Least they cared about someone's feelings, huh?" I scoff. He sighs.

"...No, I don't think so. They probably thought I'd ruin their fun. That I wasn't going to play along." 

"But you did." 

"Yeah," he relents. "I guess I did." 

I eat. I feel like there's no other choice at this point, or else he's going to notice and say something. The last thing I want is for him to ask some pithy question about whether or not I'm hungry, if the food is okay. God I'm so sick of country food. I never want to eat this shit again, no matter how good Nathan's cooking was or how little I actually ate of it. 

Why am I thinking about Nathan? 

I have to drive the conversation forward, or else I'm going to get confused about where I am and then I'll faze out for sure. 

"I'm having a hard time believing that you didn't know anything," I say. "That they never let it slip." He looks guilty again, like a toddler caught drawing on the walls. 

"...Well..." 

"Well?" I prod.

"When you and I were still—hanging out, on days we didn't have lunch together... sometimes they'd make a few comments here or there. Little mean things. But--I didn't think it was serious. I didn't think it meant any more than the things they'd say about our teachers or parents." 

"Did you join in?" I ask. "Make fun of me along with everyone else?" Why do I sound so small? Why do I feel small? I don't care about what he thinks. I can't care, not after all these years. "...Did you laugh at me when I wasn't around?" 

The gap between him opening his mouth and speaking seems to last years. 

"...Occasionally." He lets out a nervous cough of a laugh. "Yeah. I did." 

I knew it. I let that be a victory, in some cold, lonely way. 

"Not that it really matters to me but... what did you say?" The question feels transparent, pathetic. But I have to know. I need to. After all these years, finally some answers are in my grasp.

"That you were crazy, mostly. That you wanted attention, sometimes. But mostly that you were crazy and weird." 

"And you thought... what? 'It's all in good fun'?" 

"...There was probably some willful ignorance happening." I'm quiet for a long time, digesting everything he's told me. It doesn't go down any easier than the food, which sits in my stomach like a rock. If I don't throw up sometime tonight, it'll be a miracle. "I thought you were just isolated. I didn't know my friends were mean to you." 

"They never said anything to my face..." I muse darkly, if that's possible. "Never had the chance, I guess. Mostly it came from my own classmates. I did know one of them was in your group, sort of, so when you first came up to me... I figured what was going to happen." 

"But you said yes," he says, pulling his chair closer. 

"Yeah, well. I wanted you to leave me alone and quit asking." 

That shuts him up. 

I almost tell him how badly it hurt, knowing. How he made me feel like nothing the first time, because I'd been so conditioned by those people to believe that no one would ever take any sort of real interest in me, that I was a waste of space, that I wasn't even entitled to a shred of dignity or peace.

But that wouldn't do anything. Assuming he honestly cares about me, which is laughable, rubbing it in wouldn't make me any better. And if he doesn't... I can't give him any more ammunition. I've already let on to too much. 

"Listen," he says finally. He's trying to take control of the conversation again, but he can't control me anymore. "I'm not going to pry about whatever might have been going on between you and my other friends." 

I'm bristling, stammering. No way I'm going through this again, I didn't come all this way just to be blamed for the way I was treated, I got that enough from my teachers, from Nathan, from everyone... 

"This wasn't some... some _clique war_. _They_ started it, _they_ escalated it—all I did was show up, and if they got in my face too much, I'd strike back. I stuck up for myself because I had to. This wasn't some mutual, some stupid fucking— _your_ people decided that just by existing that I was guilty of some crime, and _they_ decided that they had the right to play judge, jury and executioner, every day, for the bulk of my childhood. You should be asking questions. You should be asking a _lot_ of questions." 

"I didn't realize this was still so raw, I'm sorry." His words are calculated, it's all calculated. How can I trust him when he talks like a drug store apology card? 

"It's not," I insist. "I don't care about them." He's eyeing me like I just flipped out, a little hesitant, a little pitying. It makes me sick.

"Okay, good," he says. "You just... seem kind of angry." Ho-oly fuck. He does not get it. 

"I am angry. At you, dumbass." 

He almost smiles. Almost. 

So do I. 

This is bad. 

"Riku?" he asks next. "I didn't know that you had a nervous breakdown." 

I don't drop my fork on purpose. It just slips from my grasp.

"Stop," I warn him, scooping it up again and spearing another forkful of zucchini. 

"...When I befriended you, I didn't know. I wasn't trying to push you to break down again." 

"Stop." 

He nods, lips pressed tight, but I guess he can't fucking resist because words just keep tumbling from his dumbass mouth. 

"It's just really important to me that you know. If I'd known about your rivalry with Neri, the way my friends treated you... if I'd known about basically anything I would have been a lot more careful and things probably would've ended differently." 

Hearing that name again after so many years makes me nearly shudder. 

"Stop!" 

"I—okay. Sorry." 

I'm standing. I don't know when that happened. It seems silly to just sit down and resume like nothing happened so I pace, which is almost worse, but at least seems a little more intentional. I'm not hungry anymore anyway. 

Behind me I hear Zachary rise, placing dishes in the sink and approaching slowly. 

"...not a bad idea," he says quietly. "Let's move into the living room. Or, it's not really a room, huh? More like a couch corner, I guess." 

I can't even pretend to try to smile. I collapse onto the couch, but only after waiting until he does so I can see which side he picks. So I can pick the opposite. Even then it's not far enough. I don't think any amount of space would be far enough. 

"I think that's enough for now," he says, not quite looking at me. "How's everything on your end going? You and your boyfriend--" 

"Still together," I supply. "Still happy." His smile is soft, gentle. The same one that almost made me trust him so long ago. 

"I'm glad to hear it. How long have you been together?" 

"A year." 

"A year," he repeats. "That's great. What's his name again?" 

I almost don't tell him. "...Sora. It's Sora." 

"Sora," he repeats. I hate hearing it from him. I wish I could continue to live with a line drawn between past and present. Now they can never unblur again. Nathan and Mom, Zachary and Neri. Sora and his father and Kairi and Selphie. We're all intertwined, always. I wish I could treat my life like a braided rope, unwind the pieces and hold them separate. Or just get rid of the ones I don't want anymore. "...Riku?" 

"What?" My head snaps up. I guess I went away for a moment. Damn. 

"I asked what Sora's like. What do you guys like to do together?" 

I do not want to be talking about this. 

"He's fine. I like him." 

"Well, that's good," he teases lightly. "You should always like the person you're seeing." 

"Don't talk to me like that," I grumble. 

"Like what?" 

"Like you're just humoring me. What do you want?" 

For a second, I think he might finally lose his patience. He doesn't. He just regards me sadly, his stupid "I'm listening" face firmly in place. 

"My answer is going to be the same every time you ask me that, Riku. I want to make things right. And I want to know that you're okay." 

I'm not okay. I'm never okay. 

"I'm fine," I say. "I'm as fine as I can be, having come from that mess." 

Zachary leans back, observing. 

"You really think Darry's that bad, huh," he responds. I roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out of my fucking skull. 

"A town running on some high school hierarchy isn't normal, Zachary Noah. For someone who claims to be some tragic outcast, I'd think you'd know that better than anyone." 

He's patient, patient, patient. Fake. 

"I promise that a lot of them really weren't that bad, deep down," he says. 

"Once they started kissing your ass, you mean," I translate, arms crossed. He concedes, just a little. 

"...maybe some of them had goodness buried deeper down than others." 

I wait for more. When nothing comes, I strike back. 

"Yeah, well. Excuse me for not having the patience to try and get it out of them. If someone's only good under the right conditions, I don't really think it counts." 

He falters. 

"Well... agree to disagree," he decides on, finally. Not good enough. We fall silent. Again I want to argue, but it's not worth the trouble. He's changing the topic, anyway. "I don't understand why they targeted you." 

If he wants some admission of my own wrongdoing, he's not getting it. He does get the truth, though. 

"I don't know," I say. "I don't know if they needed a reason... I was an outsider. Neri didn't like me. That seemed to be enough." Sensing the two unwanted cents about to be thrown in, I continue. The last thing I need is for him to think I've spent the last three years agonizing over the opinions of people who have never meant anything to me. "It was mutual, at least. He made my skin crawl, even before he turned the entire school against me." 

"Yeah, he's pretty... charismatic," is Zachary's little silver lining. "We weren't very close, Neri and I. He was more like a friend of a friend. We didn't talk that much. Just... thought you should know that." 

His justifications don't interest me in the least, and now all I can think of is how Zachary can make these mental leaps just to create a worldview he can live with. That his bullies weren't that bad once you got to know them. That they were just kids. They didn't know. I feel like they knew what they were doing when they followed me home, when they insulted my mom to my face just to get me riled up, when they spread rumors or prank called me or told me to kill myself, when they shoved and pinched and grabbed and hit and laughed and laughed and laughed. 

"Doesn't really matter at this point," I say. 

I think of Sora and the goodness inherent in him; how effortlessly he takes the high road, how forgiving he is, how patient. How much goodness he's pulled out of me. Not enough, maybe; but then, I've never pretended to be a saint—maybe just the least bad out of a group of the shittiest teens you'd ever have the misfortune to meet. I'd like to think so, anyway. 

All I know is that I would never, ever do to anyone what was done to me. And I don't think Sora could love me if he didn't see that. Unlike Zachary, he holds people accountable. He sees people for what they are. 

"...what we have is real. Sora and I. We're really serious about each other." 

"That's good to hear," Zachary says lightly. "I'm glad you have a special someone in your life, you know? You deserve someone who makes you happy." 

"Yeah." In a moment of petulance I add, "and maybe fewer people who don't." If I expect this comment to fly over his head, I'm wrong. 

"...I'm really trying, Riku." I roll my eyes, trying not to let on that I feel a little petty, a little caught. Transparent. "You know, this reminds me of the first time we ever hung out... you were so quiet I had to keep asking questions to get anything from you." He's smiling at me again, and I wonder if I'm not being a little defensive—I think he really didn't catch my little jab. Stupid. Him and me both. "Do you remember that?" 

"We went out somewhere," I say. In my mind's eye, I see clean windows and new tables. Bright colors. Ice cream dripping down my hand on a cool spring day, white and sticky. Gawkers. Like my mom, I didn't really leave the house, although my version of house arrest was a little less self-imposed. I remember the warm tone of Zachary's voice as he talked about nothing, asking me questions and answering them on my behalf when I was too slow, too shy, to respond. 

And I remember him bringing me round to sit with his friends sometimes, after school or during the odd shared break. The way they were nice to me, but they weren't. Taking interest in me, talking to me like an equal, all the while knowing exactly how things were going to end. 

Memories trickle into my consciousness, clearer the more I reflect, the more I talk. I just don't know if that's for the best. 

"Are you still friends with them?" I ask. Zachary seems more surprised by the subject change than the subject itself. As if I really came here to wax nostalgic with him. 

"Yeah, we get together when we can." 

"So, are you going to run off and tell them everything like you used to?" 

He drops all pretense when he shakes his head, solemn and straight-faced. 

"I won't breathe a word of this to anyone," he swears. "They will never find out about you." I can't help but needle him a little in return. 

"Uh-huh. Right. Well, when you crack under the pressure and spill your guts... tell them I say hi." He reaches for my hand, and that's when I rise, taking a step back. "It's getting late... I should get back." 

Almost imperceptibly, Zachary nods. "Yeah, sure. Drive safe." I took the bus but don't bother correcting him, just start walking. I guess I could've figured that he'd follow me to the door, but it still unnerves me as we hover awkwardly at the entrance. "Have a good weekend, alright, Riku? Take it easy." 

Yeah, sure. 

He opens the door for me when my hand is seconds from the knob, so I just stuff them in my pockets instead. 

"Hey, Riku." I'm only one step out of the door when he calls me, and my gut response is to brace myself for the gotcha moment. I keep my face steady, unreadable, subconsciously ready for some barrage of meaningless slurs and insults, and try not to adjust my expectations too much when they don't come. Because that would be too easy, right? "After all the things we talked about... do you feel any better about what happened?" He asks me like I don't need time to sit and stew and process all of this. I just try my best to be truthful, for whatever that means right now. 

"...I don't know anymore," I confess, turning to face him. "I used to think you were malicious. Now I just think you're spineless." 

"Well... at least it's a step up," he responds jovially. I don't even feel bad shooting him down. 

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Thanks for dinner." 

With that, I turn and start down the hall. 

/ 

Sora's a welcome sight, and I find myself happier to see him than I think I've ever been. Barely two hours and I think I must've forgotten how cute he is, dozing on the couch like that. Waiting for me, I bet. I know he wants me to tell him everything; he was so in favor of this when I brought it up earlier today, hoping it would give me some kind of healing. I'm not _more_ broken, though, so I guess I win this round. 

He bolts up when I shut the door behind me, sort of alert but more bleary-eyed and sleepy than ready to sit still and listen to me vent for a good hour. 

"How'd it go?" he asks, yawning. 

"It was okay," I tell him somewhat honestly, shrugging off my jacket as I continue my walk inside. "You should go to bed if you're so tired." 

"I'm not," he insists. "Besides, I want to hear about how it all went. Did you get to talk everything out?" I just shrug, still not sure what to think about the whole encounter. I think I phased out on the ride back, and already it's all a little blurry. Am I satisfied with how it went? I don't know. Am I unhappy with it? I don't know that, either. 

"More or less," I decide on finally, dropping an arm over the couch's backrest to give Sora an awkward, one-armed hug from where he sits. What's intended to be a kiss to the top of his head turns into me just burying my face in the bird's nest of hair on his head, breathing him in, like I can't even muster the energy for more, no matter how I want it. 

I don't even need to, turns out. Sora pushes his head back, his skull meeting the base of his neck, the taste of his lips a nice surprise when they brush mine. Fuck, it's scary how much I need him. I should be falling apart, but instead I'm all untouchable and new, all because I'm near him. 

"C'mon, I'll tell you more when we get ready for bed." My words are murmured up against his forehead as I slide back, standing straight. 

"I'm not tired," he repeats, puffing out his cheeks. The half-hearted glare he shoots me completes the ridiculous look, drawing a laugh that I didn't even realize I had in me. 

"Me neither," I agree, rounding to the front of the couch and offering him a hand. "Let's go anyway." 

His face is maybe a little more flushed than it normally would be, the different layers to that suggestion clear. There's a different energy surrounding us, there has been ever since our anniversary, and it seems to come out the most whenever we're in the bedroom. But sometimes just being alone together is enough. 

I'm still grappling with this whole thing, with the physical side of our relationship, but I know that anything that makes me feel like that, the way it's all singing pleasure and a sudden lack of overthinking when he touches me the way he did, the way he does, that it can either be good for me or so, so bad. 

He makes me want to take a leap of faith. 

\ 

Somehow Monday rolls around sooner than I expected. I wake about an hour before my alarm goes off, which is perfect: just enough time for me to slip out onto the balcony and smoke a little before Sora wakes. I lay on my back, watching the sunrise, the brilliance of color enhanced when I'm so relaxed. When the brightness becomes too much I shut my eyes, reliving my night with Sora. Falling into bed with him, the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. 

He's so receptive, and I can piece together a firm cause-and-effect, stitched together from our nights and early mornings of dry humping. When I kiss _here_ , he makes _this_ sound, when I touch _that_ he twitches _there_. 

He can only lay under me for so long before he takes charge, shuffling on top of me or next to me, hands always soft, always rushing like he thinks he'll never see me again. 

I never mind, really, letting him have it. Or me. Or whatever. 

Going all the way, though. That's a whole other thing. Guess I'll see what happens if Sora brings it up again, but I feel great about where we are, so who knows. There may be more chemical reasons for my optimism this morning, but I'm still going to take it and let it take me, too. 

\ 

Time seems to skip around me, the haze clearing up on my bus ride to school like I figured it would. I'm sitting in English, starting on a morning warm-up exercise, when the speaker in the room sounds. Several kids around me groan. Morning announcements suck; they don't happen very often and usually amount to "we've heard that kids are doing this so stop it." But there's worse wake-up calls, so I don't complain. For once.

"Good morning," the assistant principal chirps. Around me, the din of giggling classmates rise as friends start chatting in hushed voices. "All students who are interested in participating in school sports next year or signing up for summer programs, please report to the office after school today." 

Oh, right. That stuff. I guess I should give Sora a heads up during passing period that he shouldn't wait up for me after school. Mr. Hart's been not-so-subtly needling me again about my lack of school friends, so hopefully a semester of football or whatever will assuage his concerns for the rest of our time together. Plus there's some writing workshop that starts in June I'm kind of interested in going out for, and the second I mentioned I was possibly, maybe applying, Mr. Hart was all over it. I really don't get why he's so invested in my future. But it makes my life easier to play along, so. Fine.

I get through the rest of the day, socializing a little more with Sora's group during lunch than usual and seeing him off with a kiss when we part as the bell rings, knowing we aren't going to see each other for a little longer than initially anticipated. When the final bell lets us out, I head to the front office, idly waiting in line, skimming a paperback novel I need to have finished for class by the end of the month. One by one we're led into the nurse's office, which should be my first tip-off that something's a little off. 

But before I can wonder if maybe this isn't a little insidious, I'm being ushered into this small, old room, and given a spiel about standard checks for lice and scoliosis and drug use and I am fucked. 

If I bow out now that's going to be a red flag for them. If it's a red flag, they'll call Mr. Hart, and I'll have to come up with some on-the-fly excuse about how I changed my mind but he'll know and the school will know... fuck, fuck, fuck. 

I keep a neutral face and just get through it, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut, trying to even hope there's a chance the test won't pick anything up, that it's been ten hours since I took something so maybe, maybe it's out of my system, or so low no one thinks anything of it...

My heart is pounding as the test begins, but in the end it's just some touching that's annoying but not traumatizing and a few strands of hair off my head. 

It's fine. I have to either believe it's fine, or not care if it isn't. And I'd rather believe. 

\ 

The following week, I pick up the mail and sift through it every day, I take every phone call. Waiting for the results, however they're going to arrive. Suddenly I'm every bit the sneaky kid Nathan thought I was, and that feeling of living out some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy feels shittier than I ever could've guessed it would. I just can't let Mr. Hart find out about my occasional forays into the world of recreational drugs. He would never— _never_ —understand that it's temporary, it's just for fun, it's only social, that I'm _okay_ as I've ever been and I'm keeping myself carefully under control. And I _can't_ let Sora find out. Not like this. So when the letter containing my results finally arrives, I keep it on me. I try to finish my homework after my trip to the mailbox but feel suffocated, like I suddenly can't breathe here, and it makes no sense. I should be relieved, I should, but mostly I can't shake this trapped feeling threatening to swallow me whole. 

I have to get out of here. 

I stagger from my seat, earning Sora's attention as I tell him I need to get something at the library. I leave nearly shaking, keys-in-hand, letter-in-pocket, boarding the first bus I find and riding it to wherever it takes me. 

And so I end up at a familiar apartment complex, a familiar door, a familiar fear of what I'll find inside. 

I knock before I can second-guess myself, knowing I'm manic, knowing I'm not thinking straight, that I'm seconds from phasing out, that I'm irrational and panicking and not in any position to know what I'm doing. 

Zachary Noah looks surprised to see me but not unhappy, gawking before words fall out of him. 

"R—Riku! What are—I mean, what brings you so far out of your way? Is everything alright?" 

"Can I come in?" 

"Uh, sure." His confusion makes way for a firm: "Yes, absolutely. I just got from work so I might be a little out of it 'till I get some caffeine in my system, but make yourself at home." He steps aside and I walk in, envelope in hand, folding it and unfolding it and fiddling and fidgeting. "...What's that?" 

"You're in med school, right?" I ask. Maybe this is why I wanted to come. To share this with someone ostensibly professional who can help decode my results, who can inadvertently give me another reason why I might test positive for anything. 

"Yeah, why?" He asks in turn, sliding his thumb underneath the seal and tearing it open, the smile fading from his face. I feel like I'm outside myself, drifting away with every word that comes out of my mouth.

"Just... tell me what it says." 

He frowns, brows furrowing. 

"Oh," he says lightly. "Riku... I didn't... um. I didn't know." 

I take a long, deep breath. 

"Just tell me what it says." 

"Well... it says you tested positive for opioids." I nod once, slowly, numb but unsurprised. 

Another thing I can't tell Sora, another bullet on a list that was getting shorter and shorter only a week ago. 

He can never find out about this. 

This will kill him and I don't want to hurt him anymore.


	25. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora kicks back at camp during his first summer after running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well..... here ya go

Just like that, school draws to a close. Maybe it's 'cause I didn't finish out my last year of middle school, but this year really seemed to drag toward the end. It wasn't bad or anything, just long and busy, busy, busy.

After toughest of our finals are behind us, I start hitting beach almost daily with my friends. As always, I find myself wishing that Riku were here. I'd love to see him in a pair of swim trunks, relaxed, having fun for once. At least he's been kicking back, though, in his own way. Long nights in the library and even longer nights out with the friends he won't let me meet. He finds the silliest things to be all secretive about. Always has. At this point I'm just relieved when it's little stuff. I don't even press anymore... it all comes out eventually. 

Besides, I'm _here_ , so I need to be _here_ : stretched out on my towel, watching everyone bat around an inflatable ball while I soak in the heat of the sun, cold salt water drying on my skin. 

I think I'll shut my eyes, just for a second... 

"Sora!" 

I jolt up, surrounded by sounds of light laughter which put me a little on edge until I realize that it's Kairi calling for me. 

"Did I fall asleep?" I ask, rubbing the back of my neck. 

"Did you fall asleep?" Tidus jumps in, grinning. "Man, you've been out since Selphie started talking five minutes ago." His voice lowers into a conspiratorial whisper, almost drowned out by a crashing ocean wave. "I don't blame you." 

"Hey, I heard that!" Selphie's indignant shriek is followed by a shove, which Tidus returns in earnest. She shrieks again, louder this time, and dotted with bright laughter. Wakka, tearing his eyes away from their roughhousing, grins. 

"Get a room!" he calls. Tidus' response comes in the form of a fistful of sand. Next to me, Kairi shakes her head, saying something about "stupid boys". 

"I'm not going to get sucked into this," she says, this time to me. I nod and stand, brushing some of the stray sand from my shorts. 

"I'm with you. Let's make a run for it." 

Kairi reaches up for me from her place on the sand and I lace my fingers with hers, leaning back to pull her up and almost landing straight on my ass. Guess I forgot that sand isn't exactly the most stable thing to maneuver in. 

Grinning, we run out to the sea. 

Seriously, how did I ever live anywhere else? 

"Hey, you lovebirds!" I think I catch Tidus yell as we head back to our setup of towels, umbrellas, and beach balls, shivering and thoroughly soaked. "We're going to get some food, you up for a burger?" 

"I'm up for _ten_ burgers," I say, only realizing just now how hungry I am, now that the prospect of bacon and cheese on a big slab of meat has been presented to me. And I'm thirsty, too, to the point where I think the dehydration is giving me a ringing, pounding sort of headache. 

"Cid's, ya?" Wakka asks, as Selphie responds with an exasperated, " _Again?_ " but doesn't really seem to be too upset about it. Can't blame her, since this is like the fifth time we've gone in the past two weeks. We're all in, though, no question. 

We let the girls take a second to throw on their bathing suit covers as Tidus, Wakka and I begin to pack up, towels thrown into big beach bags Kairi and Selphie brought along, deflating the beach balls, and throwing on our own sandy T-shirts. 

Kairi and I walk arms linked, following closely behind the others, and when she reaches up to ruffle my soggy, limp hair, it suddenly jumps into my mind that we probably look like a couple. For a second I think about pulling back, but in the end I just give the top of her head a tiny kiss, laughing as she nudges me with her elbow. 

When we reach Cid's we grab a booth in the back, digging right into the homemade potato chips set out on the table by a server. 

"We're gonna do this every day when school lets out, right?" Tidus asks after a waitress comes by to take our drink orders. 

"I wish," Kairi sighs. "I'm going to spend half the summer with my Great Aunt." 

"I don't want you to goooo," Selphie moans. "Don't leave me here with a bunch of boys." 

"Hey!" Tidus and Wakka chorus. I grin, chipping in after taking a gulpful of cool water. 

"Minus one," I tell her. "I'm going to camp." Tidus frowns for a second. 

"That's news," he says. 

"Yep! Signed up this morning. A whole month stuck in a cabin with a bunch of boys, so we'll see how that goes." 

"Sounds like a dream come true, ya?" 

My friends burst into laughter around me; I nearly snort soda out of my nose, blushing bright red before begrudgingly joining in. 

"...Shut up, Wakka." 

 

*  
The first weekend of summer flies by, and before I even know it I'm kissing Riku goodbye and Dad and I are making the hour trip to get me up to a little beachfront house that's serving as the boys' cabin. Or part of it, I hope. Unless there are only going to be like, ten guys, I'm seriously wondering how we're all going to fit in there. 

Sure wish Riku was here, but he has his summer writing class starting today so he was only able to see me off for a second before I left. I tide myself over with the thought that maybe we'll be so happy to see each other when we get back that we'll... well... who knows? 

"Sora," Dad says, giving me a gentle nudge on the arm as I sit, unmoving, while the car idles away. 

"Huh?" 

"I love you, but get out of the car. You're going to be late for orientation." Oh jeez. I yank the door open and jump out of the car, feeling my knees pop and pins and needles begin to crawl over my feet from the way I was sitting, and it's all I can do not to lose balance. "Sora!" Dad shouts as I turn to leave. 

"What?" 

"You might want your suitcase!" 

Yeah, maybe that'd be a good idea. Mustering my upper body strength, I grab it from the back seat and shoot Dad a grin. He says he loves me again and he'll see me at eleven on the last Saturday of the month. 

"Love you, Dad," I call with a confidence I don't know I actually feel as he drives off. 

Well, all right. Time to see how this goes. 

* 

Like Dad said, I'm a little late for orientation. We probably shouldn't have stopped for coffee before we hopped on the freeway, but can't change that now. I just sneak into the back behind a really tall kid and hope that my opening the door while one of the counselors was talking didn't distract too many people. 

I guess I totally missed the most important part, because people start filing out almost right away and I have no clue what to do. I walk up to the closest, least-threatening guy I can find, a fairly short, kinda pudgy kid with dark hair, and ask, "Hey, so... what's going on now?" 

He grins at me as he turns. "Late, huh?" he asks. "We're going to our rooms. If you're an A through M, head over to the first bulletin board, N through Z last names are a little further over." 

"Thanks, man." 

"Hey, no problem!" 

I work my way over to the A-M board and scan the page until I find Hart, Sora. Cabin 2, it says. Okay, so that confirms my theory that the cabins we saw on the drive here weren't the only ones: there are a good fifty boys here, maybe even a little more. Now I just have to hope that the guys I'm rooming with are decent humans. I don't know how people are gonna react to my sexuality this far out of the city, and the last thing I need is to spend almost two weeks with guys who might turn on me if I make one wrong move. 

I hate it. I hate that I have to do this, I hate that they're probably going to talk about their girlfriends and crushes and I'll have to stay silent, that I can't swap stories about my boyfriend or else I might get shunned, or bullied, or worse. I'm furious with myself for already snapping back into this mode of thinking I'm wrong, for not being brave enough to know I'll tell the truth if it comes up. My love for Riku is never, never wrong. 

It's okay. It's fine. I'm not going to get myself all upset over something that hasn’t even happened yet. 

I unconsciously take a small step to the side as a guy makes his way over from the N-Z table and takes a look at the bulletin in front of me, frowning a little. I guess he sees something he likes, because when his eyes stop scanning the page he breaks into a smile and gives a small, "Yes!" Maybe I wouldn’t pay him too much attention if he weren't my height and almost exactly my build, with messy hair like me. It's so weird to see in another guy my age I give him a second look, then hope he didn't catch it. 

"Rooming with your friends?" I guess. 

"Yeah," he says. "And... some guy named Sora?" I give a little jump, looking around as if I'll see someone else walking around who's appearance just screams "My name is Sora, too!"

"Wait, Sora Hart?" I ask. He nods. "That's me! Wow, what are the chances?" 

I think he's humoring me with that smile a little. 

"Right?" he says. "I'm Roxas. Come on, let's get going." 

"I hope you know where you're going," I say lightheartedly, following his lead as I hoist my suitcase up a few inches off the ground and Roxas shoulders his beaten-up backpack. 

"Three years in, I think I've got it," he grunts, briefly sagging under its weight. 

It's just a joke but it quiets me, and I feel the first small pang of homesickness start to set in. 

* 

Our cabin is just across from the one I saw when Dad pulled up, and a little nicer, too, like they got around to fixing it up more recently. Roxas leads me through a set of dark green doors without a word, and I brace myself for a slightly uncomfortable first night here. At least the cabin's homey, though. Inside are two sets of bunk beds and a big closet to share, and a stove-slash-oven that looks like it hasn't been in use for like, thirty years. The bed I pick is just across from the bathroom and communal showers... which makes me hope that I don't wake up to three naked guys every morning for the next few weeks. Even gay as I am, the only naked guy I'm really interested in waking up to, ever, is my boyfriend. 

Communal showers, though. _That's_ uncomfortable. Another bridge to cross when I get there, I guess. 

"Top or bottom bunk?" I ask Roxas, assuming that we're sharing this set of beds since he walked right over to it. I hope I don't sound stupid if he already made arrangements with one of the other boys just now filing in, including the guy who was nice enough to tell me where the bulletins were. I give him a small wave but he doesn't see, already involved in a conversation with the taller boy who follows. 

"What? Oh, uh, bottom," Roxas replies a little distractedly before turning to his friends. Well, this is awkward... 

While they get reacquainted I begin to unpack, clumsily tossing my sleeping bag up to the top--more than once, since I can't seem to use enough force that it rolls back and instead it feels like falling forward to bonk me on the head. Touche, sleeping bag. 

Finally, when I get that taken care of, I hoist my suitcase onto Roxas's bed and start to pull things out in preparation of throwing them into a drawer in the closet. I wonder if the guys will care if I store some stuff onto the small table between our beds. I turn on the lamp while I'm at it; it doesn't help much. It's dim, and the room is still kinda dark. Chilly, too... 

"Hey!" Roxas calls out, and I jump a little. Is he going to give me shit for putting my stuff on his bed? I look up and, to my surprise, he motions for me to come over. "This is Sora," he says to his friends before turning to me. "Sora--that's Hayner and Pence," he points to the taller and short guy, respectively. "Guys, this is his first year, so be nice." 

Hayner grins and gives a casual shrug; Pence reaches forward to shake my hand. 

"We'll be sure to show you the ropes then!" he says. 

"And I guess we can't short-sheet your bed if you're on the top, huh," Hayner adds. 

"Not with that attitude," I respond with a smile. They laugh and just like that, I'm in. Or at least, I think I might be in. 

* 

The first few days pass in an exhausting rush of hiking, sports, and swimming. It's nice feeling active again. I don't think I realized how routine my life was getting back home, and just how much time I was spending as a couch potato. After PE ended, I think the closest thing I got to decent cardio were some of my steamier make-out sessions with Riku... and I guess that doesn't really count, no matter how hard it gets my blood pumping even thinking about it. 

When I'm all breathless and sweaty from our activity du jour sometimes I just take a second to kick back and watch everyone, letting their happiness radiate around me. Other times I'm happy to be the center of attention, joining along with Pence, Hayner, and Roxas as they tease and rib each other. They always get me back when everyone jumps into the lake and I steadfastly refuse to enter any body of water that goes deeper than my knees. 

Still, I think meals are my favorite parts of the day. As much as I love being active, I like relaxing just as much. That's also when the chance to really know my cabinmates better comes up. Our hikes are spent in as much silence as laughter, and talking is impossible when we're kicking or tossing around a ball. Over food, we can talk about school, or our day, or just whatever. 

Hayner and Pence are really cool. Hayner's a good guy--a little harsh sometimes, maybe, but nice. I like Pence a lot, too. He seems to know trivia about every topic you can imagine, and it hasn't gotten old enough for me yet to join in on the eye-rolling and playful jeering it earns him. But the two of them sneak off to the cabins at the girls' camp to visit another friend of theirs pretty often, which leaves me and Roxas by ourselves a lot of the time when there's a free hour available. 

Roxas and I click--easy as that. I swear our minds operate on the same wavelength. I respond to something about him on a deep level, even though I can't articulate what that might be. I think he has an old soul or something, because he's happy and upbeat but there always seems to be a something a little under the surface, something a little sad. I think he might be like me and Riku, but that's not something you just out and ask someone about. Well... not if your lives don't depend on trusting each other, anyway. 

I really hope that we get to stay friends, that's not just some summer thing and we never think about each other again.

Roxas is also kinda quiet, which I don't ever realize until it's just the two of us. It's fine and everything, it just means that I'm usually the one starting the conversations. At least it's not harder than pulling teeth, like it can be with a certain someone back home. 

"Hey, do you live around here?" I ask during lunch one day toward the end of week one. I've never seen him around, so he's obviously not local to me. Maybe if he isn't too far, I can visit him sometime! 

He shakes his head. "Not really. I'm a couple hours east."

"Oh... you and Hayner and everyone, right?" 

"Yeah." He notices the way I keep watching as he eats, finally glancing over with a quick question. "Why?" 

My eyes dart down to my plate. 

"No reason." 

Kind of a bummer, is all. I wish he lived in Okeanos. 

* 

It finally comes up on one of our hikes: girls. 

Pence is the first to broach up the topic, mentioning something about their friend staying at the cabins across the lake that makes Hayner go a little red in the ears. Roxas trails a few feet behind us, snickering. There's obviously some kind of history between the four of them that I'm not getting so I just keep my hands in my pockets and my mouth shut, occasionally drifting to listen into the conversations happening around me, seeing if I can find a place to jump in elsewhere. 

"So, Sora--" Uh oh. Hayner's looking back at me before I can make a getaway. "Help us clear something up. You got a girlfriend back home?" 

I'm bright red. Oh man... I really wish I was paying attention earlier, I have no idea what prompted this. 

"Erm, nope!" I squeak, leaving it at that. 

"I told you," Hayner grumbles. Pence just grins, and I'm lost as ever. 

I finish out the hike in silence, discomfort a small knot in the pit of my stomach. It lessens the more I have to concentrate on the trail, climbing and jumping and maneuvering through small pathways, and by the time we reach our destination—a small, hidden-away waterfall under a cover of thick, green trees—the topic has long changed and I'm a little more at ease. 

I don't mean to be, but I'm in my head all the way till dinner. I smile and laugh with everyone, but I'm sad, too, and I don't know why. For the first time I feel like an outsider, and all of the inside jokes I don't catch, the people they talk about I don't know, the traditions and dumb camp songs and stuff they already know... it just drives everything home further. Maybe I'm just tired, but I miss Dad. I miss Riku. Not sleeping next to him is hard. 

Maybe it's just because I'm tired, but I'm sad. And no one really notices, 'cause I'm really good at hiding it.

* 

I don’t know what time I wake in the morning, but I think it must be runaway-hours early since no one is up and the sky is that dusty color. I know I'd get in trouble if anyone found out, but I still climb quietly down the top bunk ladder, careful not to jostle Roxas in any way as I go. I'm used being quiet in a creaky house. Sometimes when Mom would get mad and send me to bed without dinner, I’d wake up after midnight, too hungry to fall back asleep until I got something in my stomach. I knew even as a little kid there'd be hell to pay if Mom caught me sneaking food in the middle of the night, so I learned to be pretty quiet. Or sometimes if I came home and she'd blacked out on the couch, it was a good way to avoid disturbing her and dealing with that mess. 

I slip out the door, wandering a few feet toward a wooded area, but not far enough to get turned around or anything. I just settle on the dirt, breathing the cool morning air, watching the sky lighten. 

...I should call her when I get back. Bleh. Or maybe I'll write her a letter after lunch and call it a day. 

No, no, I should call her. Shit.

"Hey." 

I should be startled, but I think I saw Roxas start settling next to me out of the corner of my eye seconds before he spoke up. Feeling a little caught, I grin at him, a hand behind my head absently scratching the back of my scalp. 

"Hey," I respond. "Heh. Didn't mean to wake you." 

"It got cold," Roxas says. "You left the door open a little."

"Oh." He doesn't seem very upset, but I still find myself apologizing out of reflex. He tells me not to worry about it, and we're quiet except for the shifting of rocks under our feet any time we re-settle. I like this better. It says a lot when you can just be happy next to someone without having to talk or anything... I feel that with Riku and Kairi all the time. It's kinda cool to add someone else to the list. We've really got something here, Roxas and I. 

"Hey, everything alright?" Roxas asks. Okay, _that_ startles me a little bit. 

"Yep," I respond quickly. I can feel him looking at me all analytical, nodding slowly. 

"Okay." 

"...Okay?" I repeat. He shrugs. 

"I thought you seemed quiet yesterday, but if you say you're okay, you're okay." Oh, come on. I can't not latch on to that opening. 

"I'm a little homesick or something," I confess. Ugh, it sounds so much worse when I say it out loud. "I just started living with my dad this year after being apart for a long time, so being away like this... hm. I don't know. And I miss my..." S.O.? Partner? Oh, fuck it. "My boyfriend." 

I swear Roxas tenses just a little, but maybe I'm just paranoid. At the end, all he says is, "Oh." 

Heartrate picking up slightly, I ask, "Hayner and Pence yesterday... when they asked if I had a girlfriend, I didn't know how that got brought up." 

Roxas frowns, and I think it's at me before I realize he's just thinking. "We were just giving Hayner a hard time for not asking out Olette since we think he's been interested for a while. Pence said something about how Hayner was the only one of us who hadn't had a girlfriend yet. He wasn't trying to put you on the spot or whatever, it's just that making fun of him is so easy." He laughs a little at that, but I'm too relieved and maybe a little mad at myself to join in. "Yeah," Roxas says next. "I got homesick my first year, too. I was, like, twelve and really going through it." 

Neither of us ask questions or anything, we just appreciate the other's unspoken empathy. Sometimes that's nice too.

* 

The sense of melancholy catches, even though I'm in a considerably better mood through the morning and into the afternoon. We're getting to the start of the last week, and I think everyone's kind of tired and realizing our time together is coming to the end. It's been a whirlwind for sure, but fun. I'm glad we have another five-some-odd days to just mess around in the woods and swim in the lake. Between the laughing and joking is a lot of reminiscing over things that've happened over the course of these three weeks, down periods where we get all nostalgic about nothing at all. Again there's more to it for them, having been friends for years, but I don't get all down about it this time. 

"You realize this is going to be our last time here for some of us?" Pence asks sometime in our last few days, as we use our rare free time to laze on some grass behind the cabin. 

"You mean me?" Hayner retorts. 

"Why's that?" I ask. 

"The age cut-off limit is seventeen. Hayner turns seventeen in May." 

"Sucks," I mumble. Hayner shrugs. 

"What can ya do? Maybe I'll come back as a counselor and harass you all." Beside me, Roxas groans. 

"Can we not talk about this?" he asks. 

There's a collective sigh, this time because we know we have to get up in about thirty seconds or we'll be late for dinner. As much as I don't want to. Either way, I still have to get up, brush the sand off my pants, and catch up with the others, just in time to hear them start making plans to get ice cream when this is all through. 

* 

The last day has a weird energy to it. I've gotten close to this group but not enough where I feel right being as emotional as I am. They share a history I don't have so they aren't really saying goodbye to each other—not yet, anyway, since they have a year till Hayner goes off to college. And then Roxas might be moving... I wonder if they know. 

"I'm going to miss this," Pence says, throwing a pair of socks into his duffel bag as we pack. 

"Not this again..." Hayner groans. 

"I'm serious! It's going to be really different next year. We'll all be separated." 

I feel like I'm intruding on some private moment, so I keep my mouth shut as we all get picked up one by one, exchanging numbers as needed, until it's just me and Hayner and Roxas, then me and Roxas, then just me. 

Dad's kinda late, but I don't really mind. And I'm really thankful that he doesn't keep me talking for too long... I'm exhausted, and I want to be home more than ever. I'm gonna play so many video games... 

I'm starting to doze when my phone vibrates in my pocket, which means I have service again for the first time in these past few weeks. Ooh, I'm gonna send Riku a quick on my way text... but before that, I find something that makes me break into a grin. I have a message from Roxas already! 

I open it and frown. The message reads: "Sora do u think I'm hot???" 

Err... what am I supposed to make of that? 

A call follows, which I pick up without even thinking. 

"Hello?" I ask. 

"Oh my God, Sora. I am _so_ sorry. My little cousins got a hold of my phone and started texting _everyone_." 

I snort loudly. 

"Ha--it's okay!" 

"They didn't do anything mean, did they?" There's the bubbling, childish sound of giggling on the other end, met with a muffled _guys, shut up!_ as Roxas pulls away from the phone for a second. The giggling only gets louder. 

"Of course not!" I assure him. 

"Okay, good. Now to call everyone else in my contact list... they deleted my entire text history! Eight-year-olds are demons." 

"Hey, Roxas?" 

"Huh?" 

"Do you think I'm hot?" I ask, laughing, then switch my phone off as I notice that the battery's nearly dead. 

"What was that about?" Dad asks, not taking his eyes off the road. I smile to myself and tell him it's nothing. I don't think he'd find it half as funny as I do. 

A half hour later I find myself nodding off again, a smile still on my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how long I've been waiting to add 'Roxas' to the character tags!!!


	26. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sora's away at camp, Riku figures out how to have fun in his own way.

Sora goes to camp and leaves a small void in his wake. I would have gone with him today, to see him off—should have—but it's almost two hours round-trip and I just don't have the time. I really need a little time to unwind before my first writing class starts.   
   
I practice more caution after my drug test near-miss. God forbid I keep getting sloppy with my few occasional, recreational vices—if Sora or his dad caught wind of what I've been up to these past few months, I know they'd flip their shit. So I wait until I know for sure that they're out of the house, until the car disappears from our street, and pull a small bag of weed from between the pages of a thick, heavy dictionary stashed under our bed. If I do this now, I'll sober up enough by the time Mr. Hart returns without him ever knowing a thing, and it won't fuck me up for the rest of the day like some of the heavier stuff does to me sometimes. Then it's just a matter of hiding the dictionary back under the bed where Sora won't find it, or pay it any mind, and... me, and tranquility, and this heavy slowness as I lay out on the balcony, smoking in the sun.   
   
\   
   
I'm still so, so calm as I board the bus and head over to the state college campus in search of my summer class. Calm, but sober, and I feel normal. I feel like myself, or someone I could be. Someone I could want to be. 

I drift around campus in search for the Humanities building, room 102. The teacher pays no mind as I stroll right in, only speaking up when I choose a seat toward the back of the class. I'm barely sitting when his deep voice calls out to me, prompting me to pack my shit back up and relocate.   
   
"You may as well take a seat up front, young man." Normally I'd object to the moniker, or at least the demand, but I don't even really care that much. I mean, what the hell... may as well make a good impression since I had to apply over a month ago to get in. And sports are no longer on the table for me, so... this is what I have to work with. I can get through it. It's just ten classes, twice a week, and then I can move on with my life.   
   
Okay,  _now_  my high is wearing off.   
   
"You're here early," he observes next. He stands, and I balk a little at how tall he is—he'd probably be a head taller than me, and I stand at nearly six feet. Well... 5'8'', but who's counting?   
   
His blonde hair is slicked cleanly back, facial hair neatly groomed. Dressed in light colors, he's a beige whirlwind as he rearranges a few seats that have been knocked out of place--not by me, I don't think—before returning to his desk. I feel those brown eyes on me a half-second before he speaks again, asking me small, basic questions about my name, what school I go to, why I signed up. By the time someone else walks in, I'm relieved beyond belief to not be the center of attention. He gives them the same  _sit in the front_ spiel that he gave me, and they take a seat at the front, close to the door.   
   
I start a little as another boy files in, then a girl a few years younger than me. Another girl. Two more. Three boys. Soon there are almost twenty of us. And we begin.    
   
Okay. Here it goes.   
   
\   
   
It doesn't take long for us to figure out exactly what kind of class this is going to be. My first tip-off is when he tells us to call him by his first name, which makes the small-town kid in me have a near panic attack.   
   
"Ansem?" some kid in the back calls out as we start a brief warm-up quiz. "Do you want us to write down the answers--"   
   
"No, I want you to dance out the answers." The class falls into a dead silence until some of us find it safe to laugh. "I will be passing out papers shortly, fill in your responses as you normally would. Keep inside the bubble, erase completely, no scribbling or else your answer will be marked wrong."    
   
I laugh to myself quietly, not at my classmate's expense. I must be the only one who does, because when Ansem catches my eye he presents me with a small smile.   
   
The test is simple and I finish with time to spare. Not as much as I thought, though—I'm just getting comfortable and we're already moving onto the next project. We're passed a scrap of paper containing a unique sentence from a book, out of context, to work with. No other prompt, so we have free reign.     
   
 The girl next to me asks, "Do you want us to write in pen?"   
   
"If you have a pen, use it. If you don't, pencil is more preferable than blood, and the use of urine is frowned upon." I cover my mouth, _dying_. Okay, this is going to be more interesting than I thought.   
\   
   
The next session is on Thursday. There are two fewer of us, and good riddance. I'm not here to goof off, so my patience for people who are typically looms somewhere in the negative percentages.    
   
Here for fun.   
   
I don't know why I'm here, really, if it's for me or for Mr. Hart, or college or my future or what.    
   
Sora would tell me that I don't know how to do things for fun.   
   
He'd never accept the things that I've been considering  _fun_  lately. Ever.   
   
I just try not to think about it when I'm here. To just stay focused.   
   
We get our quizzes and exercises back. I aced everything, which is both a surprise and not. Ansem's probably just going easier on us the first few days, so I won't let myself become complacent, but I won't get my hopes up, either.   
   
Then it's a half-hour of discussion before the next few exercises begin. When we're forced into small groups to evaluate each other's work my partners seem to value my feedback, and as Ansem sweeps across the room, I notice that he pauses and listens to me, nodding without comment.   
   
I'm trying to temper my expectations. I think I'm good at this, but so is everyone else in this room if they had to go through the same application process, if they had to provide samples of their stuff and wait for weeks to hear back.    
   
I hope I'm good. This is really all I have going for me... and it's not much.   
   
I just want—need—something.    
   
I wish I was a good person, a good boyfriend, a good son. I wish I was open and happy like Sora, funny and tactful like Kairi. I wish I made people happy, but they never seem to know what to do with me.    
   
But being good at things—that I can do, even if it doesn't mean much in the end.   
   
\   
   
The following Tuesday when class is out, Ansem calls me over after everyone else has packed up and gone.   
   
"Riku, I'd like to see you before you go." 

I tense when he says it, watching my classmates spill from the room, already expecting the worst. I don't belong here. A part of me knew it, and in a few minutes, I'm going to know for sure. Or, fuck, did someone say something? I didn't do anything wrong.   
   
Well, I failed the drug test, but that was for sports, I thought. It shouldn't impact this class... oh God, I hope I didn't fuck up.   
   
I approach his desk slowly, trying to take control of the situation any way I can.   
   
"Yeah?" I ask, still getting some giddy, queasy surge of rebellion over addressing an adult so casually, after all these years. Knowing that no pushy adults will correct me, no harsh reminders whispered through clenched teeth.   
   
"Sit down, please."    
   
...Okay, this isn't good. I pull a chair over to his desk and take a seat, waiting impatiently as he leafs through some papers. All this and he isn't even looking at me. Somehow, I almost have the nerve to be offended.   
   
"...Yeah?" I ask again.   
   
"Are you considering participating in this year's national short story contest?"   
   
"...Huh?" The question catches me off-guard. I was expecting... I don't know. Not this. "No..." I stammer. "I wasn't aware of it."   
   
"It's an incredibly prestigious contest," he explains, staring down at me, maybe a little surprised I don't know. "It runs every year, open to young adults all over the country. The winners may receive anything from cash to college scholarships. Even to place in the top three is enough to get you noticed by very respectable universities... I myself placed first when I was your age, and as a runner up when I entered again in the college division. You should enter." Dumbfounded, I just sit blinking at him for ages. "I think you have a very serious chance of winning."   
   
"...What?" I ask, painfully slow to parse the meaning of his words.   
   
"I teach year-around courses, for youth and at the graduate level, and I must read... hundreds of papers a year." I nod numbly, not quite looking at him. "Riku, I can tell you this from decades of experience: you are very talented."   
   
For a moment I sit, soundless, trying to absorb what I just heard. Ansem watches me as I deliberate, actually maybe considering it.   
   
What do I have to lose, right?   
   
God, my heart is pounding and I don't know why.   
   
Still mentally short-circuiting, Ansem catches my eye. Motions for me to get going.   
   
"Thanks," I say awkwardly, finally, scrambling to grab my bag. "I'll... I'll take it into consideration." Jumping onto my feet, I push the chair back to its original space, careful to make sure that he doesn't see my red, hot face.    
   
I'm halfway out the door when I regain some semblance of control over myself--and have a thought.    
   
"Professor?" I ask, poking my head back inside.   
   
"Yes?"   
   
"It's not true then, is it?"   
   
"What are you taking about?" he asks, looking puzzled.   
   
I muster a grin more confident than I am. "That people teach because they can't do."    
   
He smiles, shaking his head as he returns to his papers.   
   
\   
I'm in a good mood on the bus ride back to Mr. Hart's, to say the least. _Buzzing_. I never get singled out for anything good, never get acknowledged for doing well—it's always _don't do this_ , _stop doing that_ , _you'll never_ , _you're not_. 

Well, I don't get that from Mr. Hart or Sora, not often anyway, but that hardly counts—they're of the same ilk, and that's not their style. They're more of the quiet disappointment type.   
   
But Ansem wants  _me_  to enter this big contest, he thinks  _I_  can win; in a class full of teens smart enough to be there--and me--he pulls  _me _aside.  
   
...Unless he's told other people to enter, too.    
   
But he wouldn't, right? Why get me alone, then? Why not just call the lot of us out and save himself a little time?   
   
He wouldn't have gotten my hopes up like this. He picked me, and he laughed at my stupid joke...   
   
Maybe I got all wound up over nothing... maybe he was just being nice. Maybe someone better than me just had a bad week and so Ansem skipped over them by mistake.__

__Stupid. It's all stupid. I got lucky once or twice and next week Ansem's gonna realize that I'm not even that good to begin with. If I were worth anything, I'd just own up to wasting everyone's time and be done with it._ _

__I probably shouldn't bother entering that stupid contest, anyway. What, do I suddenly think I'm going to have a future now?  
   
God. I'm fucking tired.   
   
I head off the bus and hurry back, ready to just kick off my shoes and sleep my shitty disposition toward life away for as long as I need to. But the phone rings almost as soon as I enter the house, so I make the pit stop first just to get it over with. _ _

__It's for me.  
   
"Hey, Riku. Let's go out tonight."   
   
I should have to think about it longer than I do, but this is going to be so much better than just moping around in Sora's room for the rest of the night.   
   
"When?" I ask.    
   
"Nine?"   
   
I glance over at the clock; it's only four. Too antsy for that wait, and I'm not going to show up already high, or having been high. I want the stamina for whatever it is we're going to do. Now that the possibilities are in front of me, all I want is _that_ —whatever it is.   
   
"Can't we meet up any sooner?" I ask. I can almost feel his easy grin on the other side of the line.   
   
Eight is our compromise. As best as I can, I sleep. I sleep with the promise that when I go, I'll be walking into comfort, the only way I know how to get it.   
   
\   
Okay, this was unexpected.   
   
I assumed since I was going earlier, we'd end up drinking and smoking before winding up at some dive bar around midnight, which is what usually happens when Axel and I get together. I didn't think we'd end up at a club he has to fast-talk to get me into. I didn't think I'd still be 100% sober at nearing ten in the evening, and I definitely didn't think I'd wind up shoulder-to-shoulder with groups of dancing college students. If I weren't so unbearably uncomfortable, I'd be pissed. I'd feel lied to.    
   
But Axel seems to be right at home here and I have to be honest, he's incredible to watch in his element. So smooth and confident... this is his world. I could say fuck it and leave, but instead I make my way to the bar, searching for my wallet in my pockets as I wait out my turn.   
   
...Okay, no money. I could have sworn I left with at least a twenty. Damn... maybe Axel will cover me tonight. That'll make us even for the money I lent him the last time we saw each other, as if I don't owe him enough for all the drugs he gives me for little more than the companionship.   
   
"Is this seat taken?" comes a voice from beside me.   
   
"No," I respond without thinking, hardly paying attention to the guy who settles next to me while I'm trying to figure out how I can get Axel's attention when he's chatting up a guy ten feet away.    
   
"What do you like?" the man asks next, a gentle hand on my arm.   
   
"Sorry?" I ask, stiffening, ready to strike. Always ready to strike. What's wrong with me...   
   
"What do you like?" he asks again. His hazel eyes gleam gold in the strobing lights, almost bowling me over. He looks at me like he's deciding if he's going to devour me whole, his big, warm hand still on me.   
   
"Oh... I..." Reddening under his gaze, I stammer out something about drinking cheap wine with my friend. Nothing screams _I don't belong here_  like my response. Honestly.    
   
With a small smile he orders two old-fashioned cocktails, toasting to me as I drink.   
   
I shouldn't be here. I should be reading or writing, cooped up in my room, keeping watch on the house until Mr. Hart comes home from another late night at work. I should be pining for Sora like I do every night, every morning, while he's away at camp... but fuck it.    
   
A few drinks later and he's got an arm around me. I feel like I should care more than I do, but for once this is nice, it's nice not to care... looking at him, he might be more than twice my age, I think he's probably older than Nathan would be, but there's something about his grip that's amazingly reassuring. Or maybe I'm just drunk.   
   
"Come with me," he says, an invitation that comes out as a demand as he leads me onto the floor.   
   
"Yes," I answer, breathless.   
   
I lose track of how many drinks I've had and how many times he nudges me against a back wall, how long he grinds against me, his touches feather-light, breath hot on my neck. And I don't overanalyze, I don't freak out. I wrap my arms around him, close my eyes and just... go with it.   
   
When Axel hunts me down and tears me away because he wants to go home, I fight him until he promises to get me high. My dance partner/drink supplier doesn't seem thrilled, but he lets me go and we slip out of the crowd, onto the cold, busy street.   
   
The long walk back to his place sobers me up a little, enough to feel a little trepidation when he sits me on a beanbag chair tossed on the tiny floor of his makeshift living room, slipping into his room and emerging with syringes.   
   
"You like Opium," he assures me, showing me on himself how to insert the needle just right. "So you're gonna  _love_  this."   
   
My sense of self-preservation is screaming at me to stop; my overwhelming desire to feel carefree outweighs it, for the first time in my life.   
   
I'm in control. I'm in control. I'm in control.   
   
Heroin floods my veins. It envelopes me, consumes me.    
   
\   
   
Shit.   
_  
Shit._     
   
I really didn't mean to spend the night. Suddenly it's 11AM and I'm scrambling to get up, to shake off my hangover and grogginess, to figure out exactly what day it is.    
   
Oh, fuck--did I miss class?   
   
No, wait--I had it yesterday. The next one is tomorrow. I'm alright. It's alright.    
   
I just need to get back to Mr. Hart's. He's probably at work. I should... I should send him a message. Right. So he knows I'm okay, so he won't be mad.   
   
I fish my phone from my pocket, flipping it open and punching in a semi-comprehensible text.   
   
_So sorry.. Fell asleep at friend's house._    
   
His response arrives at some point as I check my pockets for my wallet and keys, use the bathroom and splash water on my face:  
   
_Thought so. Thnx for the note. Leave friend's name and number next time please._    
   
Yeah, I'll just pretend I didn't see that.   
   
I leave without saying goodbye, figuring that Axel'd rather sleep in than see me off.   
   
I breathe in the cool morning air, ready myself for a long walk, and feel ashamed.   
   
Wait, no:  _exhilarated._    
   
\   
   
The rest of the week passes and life is life. Mr. Hart's still working long hours as he so often does and my homework is easy to finish, leaving me with not much to do. I just don't feel like writing even more than I've been doing, and I don't like playing video games on my own. I need new books. Maybe I'll ask Mr. Hart, but I probably won't. I still feel uneasy accepting his money, so I haven't been spending it since I started getting an allowance. I think my original goal was to hang onto it in case I ran away again, but lately it's been exchanging hands between Axel and myself more than I'd like to admit.   
   
For the first time since I was thirteen, I find myself wishing that I had more homework, just for something to do.   
   
I spend a lot of time in my head. Last night, while trying to fall asleep, all these faces and words kept popping back into my consciousness. I think I managed three hours, not even at once, before deciding just to stay awake.    
   
I thought about Sora, a lot. My eyes closed, listening for the sound of his breathing in sleep until I could almost hear it. Replaying long nights and early mornings rolling around under the covers, the feel of his hands, so warm on my body, his mouth, his little worked-up trills. I thought about it until I got warm and impatient for _something_ , and my mind began spiraling in the only direction it knows how to go.   
   
Wanting Sora to have fun, but not too much. Wanting him to make friends, but not ones he would like more than me. Hoping he wouldn't see anyone who made his heart skip a beat, someone he couldn't take his eyes off on lest he miss their smallest movement. Praying he doesn't stray when I'm not next to him, then feeling sick for thinking so lowly of him. Needing him to miss me. But not too much.   
   
I spend the days until my next class in an opium-induced haze, thankful for the rest and the quiet in my head.    
   
Sora comes home in two weeks... I'm counting the days.   
   
\   
   
A few nights after our little adventure at the club Axel calls again, and more and more I find that when I'm with him I let him do the thinking for me. It's why I indulge him when he wheedles me into going out on a sleepy Monday night for what I think will only be a few hours.    
   
"What, you're not thinking of leaving already, are you?" he asks me at ten, then eleven, then midnight. Before I even know it we're halfway across the city, eating pancakes at a shitty chain restaurant as the sun rises, the glare blinding as the rays strike my eyes, but I'm too tired and bloated to care.     
   
I have class today. I can't forget about it. If I just make sure I'm in the house before Mr. Hart leaves for work, I can sneak a few hours of sleep and be semi-conscious for class. Then back to form for Thursday's session.    
   
"You look like you were rode hard and hung wet," Axel observes, snickering as he drinks another cup of lukewarm coffee. My eyes blearily slip open, and I can't even muster the energy to flip him off. I just laugh lowly, sliding back in my seat so I won't slouch so far over.   
   
"You know very well I don't get rode," is my lazy retort. Axel grins, chuckling lowly.    
   
"Boyfriend's still out of town, I take it. Else you wouldn't be spending so much time with me."   
   
I must be tired; Axel's facetious take on our frequent companionship restricts my throat. It isn't like that, but I do miss Sora _immensely_. Sora didn't think about what this would do to me, being apart like this for so long.    
   
Neither did I.   
   
What I have with Axel, this friendship of mutual convenience—I enjoy it, but it's not something I treasure. I don't connect with people, and I really don't think Axel does either, and that's why we fit. Neither of us ask questions, we just understand that the other is fucked up and leave it at that. He doesn't try to fix me like any of the other shitty older men who've tried to befriend me, he just asks me if I want to try things and backs off if I say no. Unlike most everyone else I've ever met.   
   
"Good _morning_ ," Axel purrs, and before I can think to respond I realize he's looking over my shoulder, at the big guy who just walked in. I stare out the window as the man approaches, hoping that if I don't make eye contact with either of them, I'll be spared from an awkward introduction to one among Axel's crowd. But Axel's not an introductions kind of guy, so I get to just wait it out as he murmurs something low before kissing the newcomer, a bag of something exchanging hands underneath black sleeves, and he leaves. Thankfully. I'm definitely not up for a guest by any means. "Riku." Axel's rising from the booth, strolling into the single stall bathroom while the only waitress on shift goes back into the kitchen to relay an order.    
   
I follow, legs feeling like lead, ready for whatever's about to follow. That's how I end up doing lines of coke off a toilet lid in a dirty public restroom at 5 AM on a weeknight.   
   
\   
   
Somehow I wake up on a couch in an apartment I've never been in before. I recognize Axel's shoes on the floor, which is a good sign... I think. I feel _terrible_ , sick and exhausted from head to toe, just trying to clear the fog in my head enough to see if I can remember where I am, and what day it is, and...   
   
Oh _fuck_. _Fuck._    
   
It's Tuesday. Jumping to my feet, I snatch my phone where it ended up, halfway beneath the couch cushions, and my stomach sinks.    
   
It's 3 PM. My class started at 2, and I don't know where I am. Not that I could show up like this, in day-old clothes, overdue for a shower, and looking like a cadaver.   
   
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I've really fucked up now.   
   
"Where's the fire?" Axel calls to me from a bedroom doorway, watching as I scramble for my keys and shoes.  He's half-dressed, hair mussed, arms folded across his chest, leaning casually like he's got nowhere to be.   
   
"I have to go," I gasp. "Shit, fuck--"   
   
"Hey, calm down. You know how to get home from here?"    
   
Another surge of panic overwhelms me as I again realize I don't know where I am. I shake my head, doing my best to absorb his instructions meant to get me onto the right bus.    
   
The relief of leaving, of finding the stop and boarding, of buildings becoming familiar in time, is tangible. I don't know what the fuck I did, but I can't do it again. Ever. Period. Full stop. If I were a runaway, I would've just gotten myself killed.   
   
I might still get myself killed. I know Ansem's going to call Mr. Hart. Attendance isn't optional. I have so much groveling to do. God.    
   
\   
   
When I get back to the Harts', I wash and change, sleeping until Mr. Hart arrives home. He comes back to a message on the machine asking if I intend to continue attending Ansem's course, which means that dinner consists of me eating while being lectured within an inch of my life.   
   
"I'm sorry," I tell Mr. Hart sincerely, but not for the right reasons. "I'm so, so sorry. It was all my fault... I thought today was Monday. Just. Summer... I got thrown off... it was irresponsible of me, and it won't happen again. It was completely my mistake, and I'm really sorry. When I go in on Thursday, I'm going to apologize to the professor, too, and ask if I can make it up somehow. I'm really sorry."   
   
Mr. Hart is exasperated by my apology, but I have the feeling his lack of patience has just as much to do with whatever's going on at his job as it does with my sudden delinquency. He doesn't stay mad, though. Not outwardly, anyway. He just tells me that he accepts my apology and that one missed class is okay. That's almost harder, but I'm relieved, too. I don't know. I think Nathan really fucked with my perception of what these relationships are supposed to be like. _ _

__At least Mr. Hart doesn't scream at me, even if I know how to take it.  
   
Before I go to bed, I promise Mr. Hart again that I won't miss another class, and when he asks me to reconsider staying out late, I tell him I'll stop spending so many nights out of the house.   
   
Those are both lies. I mean it at the time, but it's really just not how things turn out.   
   
   
/   
Friday night I'm back at the club, fed drinks by my older male friend between brief forays onto the dance floor. Even drunk I'm not really much for dancing, but just being surrounded by so many people having artificial, liquor-fueled fun is invigorating in its way, and I don't even mind it how my light-haired, gold-eyed companion rocks against me, leading me slowly in an almost serene contrast to the pulsing and pounding of the music around us.   
   
When I'm drunk I can even let myself ignore the way he ghosts kisses across my face and neck, can even ignore his boner when he grinds against me. I humor him, but I don't return the favor--that's for Sora after all, and honestly, fuck Sora for leaving me for so long.   
   
He comes back in under a week, and I'm going to pass the time with as many vices as I can possibly get away with. Then I'll be done. And that's fine.   
   
\   
Two days until Sora comes home again and I feel like I'm standing on my toes, waiting. This last stretch of the month I've really been getting my shit back together. No parties, no clubs, no coke or pot or cheap beer fed to me by too-much-older men. I've been writing a lot, spending too much time missing the bus by accident on purpose in order to stay late as Ansem grades papers. Making excuses, excuses, excuses, to not be alone in an empty house.   
   
"Riku," Ansem asks one day, handing me a paper of a previous student that he found to be particularly good. Letting me size up my potential competition. "Why are you avoiding your ride home?"   
   
I feign innocence. It's not the ride I'm avoiding.    
   
"I don't know what you're talking about, Ansem."    
   
"Suppose I find it intriguing that you have somehow managed to miss the bus several sessions in a row now. I would think that you have more than enough time to walk one block over before four-fifteen."   
   
An implication easily evaded.   
   
"Well, I'd rather be here,” I explain. “If I'm going to enter this contest, I need to put in the extra work."   
   
"And the reasonable solution is to spend all of your spare time with an old man." He looks up, finally, not hiding the amusement in his voice or on his face.   
   
"I guess so." I shrug, handing him back the A- paper. "You're not that old."   
   
"Be that as it may, I suggest you spend your time with men a little closer to your own age."   
   
"You trying to get rid of me?" I ask, grinning, and more than anything hoping he says no.   
   
"Only for your own health, Riku."    
   
He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder, then slides down by fractions of an inch in a gesture that could've been an accident. Could've.   
   
For my health.    
   
Or for your career, more likely.   
   
\   
   
When I finally board the bus, I miss my stop back and keep going. I don't know why. I don't know why I want so desperately to be away again, why I feel scared and stifled.   
   
I don't know why I end up here again, up flights of stairs at an apartment complex in the middle of the city.    
   
The door swings open when I knock, Zachary Noah's shocked face greeting me on the other side.   
   
"Riku!" he says, always like I'm back from the dead. "I—wow! I'm really surprised to see you!" He's smiling, dark eyes shining bright. "Can I help you with anything?"   
   
I shake my head. "Just... killing time," I tell him, feeling out my explanation as I go. "I ended up in this part of town. Thought I'd see what you were up to."  He doesn't look convinced; I don't feel convinced. It's an equal exchange of confusion.   
   
"I'm was just going to head to the corner store for a few minutes, do you want to come with?" Maybe sensing my hesitance, Zachary Noah steps aside. "You're also welcome to just wait in here if you want. It really won't take long."   
   
"Okay." And so I agree, sounding and feeling small. And tired, lonely, lethargic, all of it. I've been making bad choices this week. _ _

__Zachary Noah sees me off with a beaming grin, promising again he won't be long.  
   
So again I'm alone.    
   
I don't feel any safer here, with him gone. And the first footstep that comes from above my head nearly gives me a heart attack until I remember—apartment. Neighbors. Right.   
   
Taking the walk into consideration, even if he's fast, I'm guessing I've got at least twenty minutes to kill, maybe more like thirty if I'm... lucky, unlucky, neither. I don't know.   
   
I start upstairs into the loft, climbing each, creaky step slowly, one-by-one.   
   
I shouldn't snoop around his place, I really shouldn't, but I can't help myself. I feel like this is my only real way of knowing him, behind the big smiles and bigger shows of sympathy.   
   
Upstairs, in his bedroom, his bed is made, dark blue comforter a little wrinkled-looking until I take a step closer and realize it's textured, it's supposed to look that way. Figures. Zachary tries so hard to look like he doesn't try hard. His walls are bare except for two shelves stuffed with little knick-knacks that probably have significance to him. I take a step to his desk; his laptop is asleep, his papers are all stacked and organized. I pick up an open box of something I don't recognize, stare at it for a moment, when it dawns on me. Condoms.   
   
Oh, shit. I drop them like they just caught on fire, try to make it look like I never touched a thing. Why I then wipe my hands on my jeans, I don't know.   
   
I think what I spot next is even worse, though.   
   
He's got a cork bulletin board on the wall, stuffed to the brim with photos, ticket stubs, and notes. There's a few that look newer, where he's flocked by people I don't recognize. One where he's hugging a girl wearing an oversize school sweatshirt. Artifacts from his undergrad years, I guess. Seems weird that he's already in medical school, that he's so much older now. That I'm older, too.   
   
Maybe he has changed. I think if Sora were in my shoes, he'd be inclined to offer him one more chance. I just don't know if that's going to work for me yet.   
   
My eyes scan across general scenery pictures, sunsets and oceans and exotic buildings. Places he's been or seen. If I had the nerve, I'd be jealous. _ _

__I continue on, crouching when I need to get a better look...  
   
And then, there they are, staring me straight in the face: my tormentors, young as I remember them, frozen in time. Grinning, laughing, like they haven't got a care in the world.   
   
I swallow thickly, heart beating fast for some reason. Right. He's still friends with them. Somehow. Kind of seems like a conflict of interest. Kind of unfair that he gets to have it both ways.   
   
Their faces bring back their names and voices in stunning detail: Zachary's best friend, Trace Ackerman, snarky and sharp. When he found out that I liked to read, he started sneaking me books from the high school's library. If he wasn't the one who orchestrated everything that happened between Zachary and I, I'd be fucking shocked. His ex-girlfriend, Kayla McCann, cool and confident. The way she'd smile at me when I was with Zachary. Her cold shoulder when it ended.   
   
And the other two. Neri Haden and Kai Lewis. How many days did I have to put up with them, one on each side of me in so many of my classes. The poking and prodding and stoking, hair-pulling and kicking, and the notes. So many fucking notes passed, every day. It's easy to see Zachary and his group and still feel separate from them, those popular upperclassmen I didn't really quite know.  Trace was an overgrown mischievous shit, only pulled into our middle school drama by his brotherly relationship with Neri.   
   
Everything that happened between Neri and Kai and myself was personal. Our stupid rivalry ruined whatever I had left of a childhood. Petty. All of it. Petty and stupid and fucked up. And so, so pointless. I don't even remember how it all started, just that it seemed so endless, so hopeless. I want to pull that thirteen-year-old boy out of myself and tell him that it isn't forever, that my freedom is coming sooner than I'd believe. And then I want to cast him away.   
   
And there's Zachary, right in the middle of the gaggle, seventeen like I remember him, the age I'll be in just a few, short months. I wonder if this was taken before we met. I wonder if it was taken after I left.   
   
 After what he did to me, after making it clear he wants to reconnect with me, how can he still be friends with the people who put him up to what he did? How can he still stomach them?   
   
Have they changed? Have I?   
   
Does it even matter?   
   
Standing to my full height, I try to wipe the image of them from my mind and head back downstairs. I had no business coming up here anyway.   
   
Even though I'm expecting it, I still jump when the door flies open about ten minutes after I settle on the love seat, staring at nothing and just trying to _breathe_.    
   
"Honey, I'm home," Zachary calls. _Ugh._ I roll my eyes, thankful that he doesn't see. I'm the one who intruded on him, after all. I don't get to be shitty, even though he started it. Ages ago. "I think I'm just gonna make some sandwiches for dinner. You want anything?"   
   
"I appreciate it," I tell him, standing. "But I should go before I miss the next bus."   
   
He drops his bags on the counter, face falling slightly.   
   
"Oh, okay. See you around?"   
   
I don't hesitate for as long as I should.   
   
"Probably. Thanks for letting me stay."   
   
"Anytime," he responds earnestly. "And hey, before you go." I stop halfway to the door, waiting for what feels like forever before he finally stops hesitating and comes out with it. "Be careful, okay?"   
   
 _ _


	27. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora makes an upsetting discovery and looks to a couple of unexpected sources to see him through.

It is _so_ good to be home. The first thing I do when I get back is kick off my shoes and throw myself on my bed, burying my face into the pillow and taking in the scent of Riku's fragrant shampoo. There's nothing like being back in my own room. I can't wait to use my own, private shower and cuddle up with Riku when I get ready to sleep... maybe I'll ask him if he wants to go on a date tonight, catch a movie and grab some late-night snacks... 

I let the image run in my head, of hand-holding and long-overdue kisses, only to be interrupted when Dad calls me downstairs. Figures. I stoop down to grab my shoes now, or else they'll end up under the bed and I'll never find them again. Speaking of, it looks like one's already made the move. I slide it out and toss it across the room, spotting a flip flop while I'm at it. I can just see the heel behind this big dictionary that ended up down here for some reason, so I pull that out first to save me from having to hoist myself up and head to the other side of the bed. Too much work for an old sandal. 

Man, this thing is humongous... one of Riku's nerdy impulse buys, probably. It looks like there's something inside, too; there are gaps between some of the pages that I don't think age alone could have caused, unless he spilled water on it at some point. But that would be unlike him. 

I slide my finger into one of the holes to get a better grip as I slide it back under the bed, because it’s super hot out and my hands are a little slick just from the trek upstairs. The tip of my finger brushes something I can’t totally place, though, so I pull the book open at the biggest gap. I don’t even think about it, until... 

I find two small, plastic bags of white powder. 

No. 

No, this can't be happening. This is _impossible_. 

Feeling outside of myself, I begin to flip through the entire thing, pulling out a host of awful treasures until I find myself with six bags of powder, a half-crushed pill, two bags of marijuana, and three cigarettes. I could deal with the cigarettes since I saw him smoke once when we were runaways, and maybe even the weed. I'd be concerned, but it wouldn't be a huge deal. 

But _this_. 

I'm beyond shocked. Beyond anger, beyond tears. 

I run like hell downstairs, shouting my lungs out as my feet stomp down each carpeted step. 

" _Dad_!" 

"What?" Dad asks, popping out of the kitchen where he’s looking at a dinner recipe. "What's wrong?" 

"I have to show you—Dad—upstairs—" 

"Calm down,” he says, not dismissive as he sets the cookbook aside. His brows are raised, and I can tell he’s trying to parse the seriousness of the situation as he follows me up. “I'm coming." 

I lead him into the room, feeling breathless. I think I'm holding onto him, like a child. I _am_ a child. So is Riku. This is wrong, it's all wrong. 

At least there's no need to explain it to Dad: my discovery is clear with his first glimpse into our room, little baggies all over the floor. 

"I found these under the bed," I say quietly, voice squeaking. I can barely speak with my throat so constricted; I can barely breathe. “What do we do?” 

" _You_ are going downstairs," he says. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and the next part of his sentence comes out a little less abruptly. "I'm going to dispose of these safely and then...well, all we can do is wait for Riku to come home and take it from there. Unfortunately, I think we'll need to make some changes to the rules around here." 

I bite down on my lip to keep it from quivering. Too many feelings tie together like a big, heavy yarn ball in my stomach, all interwoven. I think _I_ might unravel. Every time things go well between us for a small amount of time, something bad happens. The longer the good parts last, the worse the bad ones get. It isn't fair. 

We take a seat on opposite sides of the couch, totally silent. Theoretically, Riku's in his writing workshop right now. Whether he's actually been going... I guess Dad will be following up on that. This throws so much into question. How long he's been hiding this from us... how much else he might be hiding, what else he's lying to us about... 

I feel betrayed. Gullible, for letting him trick me into thinking things were okay. 

I feel like an idiot. 

By the time Riku comes home I've retreated into myself, slumped over the armrest, eyes full of tears that sit in my eyes without falling. I don't want to open those floodgates. My inner monologue whirrs vague phrases of anger, self-pity, fear, and it's all I can do not to lash out at him the moment he steps into the living room. 

"Sora, you're back!" Riku calls when he sees me on the couch. I hear his feet against the carpet, growing louder until he stops in front of me. I can't look at him. "...did something happen? Are you okay?" 

"Why didn't you give me your drug test results at the end of last semester?" Dad asks next to me. 

Riku stops, his next sentence choked back mid-word. 

"...Because," he says carefully, feigning confusion almost convincingly enough for me to believe that this could somehow be a misunderstanding. "I didn't think you'd want to see it. If that was a mistake... I won't do it again. Sorry." 

"And what did it say?" Dad's tone remains level and calm, but trepidation may as well be radiating off Riku in waves. Each word from him is still measured, deliberate. 

"It... nothing. It didn't say anything. It came back clean, I mean." He knows we know. There's no way he could think otherwise... he's not that dumb. He’s not dumb at all.

The quiet in the room is so, so loud. Dad's voice seems even louder, even though he doesn't raise his volume even a mite. 

"We found drugs in your room, Riku. Now, would you mind answering the question truthfully?" 

Riku scoffs. Just like that, the act's dropped. That's all it ever was, anyway: an act. I just wonder how long it's been going on, and what else he's been lying to us about. Lying to _me_ about. 

"...okay. Fine. I smoked that morning, the test picked it up. I didn't want either of you to think--" 

"What were you smoking?" Dad asks. "Marijuana?" 

Riku shakes his head. "Opium." 

"Opium!" Dad repeats, standing. I catch Riku flinch as if he's about to be struck, doubled over, arms shielding his head. It happens just for a second, a moment of off-guard reflex, even though Dad doesn't make a move toward him. It just makes even more tears well up, because I know how that feels. I know what causes that kind of unconscious reaction. For all his confidence, Riku _knows_ he’s in deep shit. Dad gives Riku a wide berth as he approaches, slowly laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Riku... what are you _thinking_?" 

If Riku responds, I don't hear. Unable to listen to whatever excuse he might come up with, I bolt out of the room, coming to rest on the bottom steps of the stairs. I don't even have the energy to climb them right now. I just curl up, resting my forehead against my knees. 

Dad sighs heavily, the sound muffled but still carrying across the house. 

"...I--" 

"You and I are going to do whatever it takes to get you clean and sober and ready to go back to school in the fall." Whatever Riku does next, it prompts Dad to say: "This is _not_ negotiable, Riku." 

"It isn't like that--" 

"I'm not interested in your justifications right now. You have a lot on your shoulders, Riku, and you don't need _this_ on top of everything else going on. We need to be preparing you for _college_ , and opium or pills or whatever else you've done won't get you down any path you want to be taking." 

Riku lets out a long breath, short and choppy, more like a snort. 

"I made a mistake. It won't happen again." 

"No, it won't. You're not going out this summer anymore. I'll be dropping you off to your class for the last sessions coming up. Then, I'm taking you _home_ for the day and you aren't walking out that door again without supervision." 

I expect Riku to fight it, to argue, to leave. But all he says is, "I'm going to my room." 

Riku glances at me as he walks past, almost three steps above me before he stops. 

"Sora?" he calls for me tentatively, like he doesn't know what I'm going to do. I don't know, either. "Hey. I promise this sounds worse than it is. I've got everything under control, so you don't need to worry about me." 

"How long?" I ask, voice watery. 

"How long, what?" 

I draw in a deep breath. 

"Have you been using since we met? Or since we got here?" 

He lets that question sit, all the while looking down at me like he can't figure out why I'm so hurt. How he can just... _not_ have this figured out by now... 

"Yeah, I've been using," he says finally. "A handful of times before we met. I started up again a few months ago, but it's not serious. Promise." 

I don't feel him move until he's lowering himself next to me, leaning in until we're nearly cheek-to-cheek. 

"Hey," he says. "I thought you'd react like this... it's why I put off saying something sooner. I would have told you if I'd gotten the chance. Sora. I was _planning_ on telling you, okay?" 

I dodge his hand coming to rest on my shoulder and stomp off, continuing out the front door, yelling at Dad I'll be right back before slamming the door behind me. I don't even know or care where I'm going, running down the street, away from the house, away from the beach, away from Riku. 

Riku lied to me. Riku has been lying to me. He has always lied to me. He _is_ a liar. 

I don't know if either of us can fix that. 

Moving fast, I leave our cul-de-sac and wind through little neighborhoods until I’m out into the street, joining the crowds of people who have places to be. I just need to… I don’t even know, dip into a department store or something, just be surrounded by people and music and stuff to look at so I don’t have to think.

I blink back another round of tears, desperately wanting _not_ to cry. I pick up my pace as the nearest crosswalk to me flashes green, and that's when I slam right into someone walking out of a small convenience store on the corner of the street. He's okay, but I end up sprawled out on my back, palms stinging as my hands slam into the concrete in a delayed attempt to break my fall. 

"I'm sorry," I say absently, trying not to let my voice shake, trying not to burst into tears of fury and embarrassment. 

The guy takes my arm, pulling hard, and it takes me a moment to realize that he's trying to help me to my feet. Already I've said something dumb like, "I don't want any trouble, man." I don’t know what I was thinking would happen, but there you go.

"Don’t worry about it!” he says, sounding a little apologetic, as if we were the one who bumped into me. 

I take a deep breath before facing him, wanting my tears to go away before he gets a better look at me, even though I'll probably never see him again so it doesn’t really matter. Blinking hard, I will them back. When my vision stops swimming I can get a better look at him: he’s attractive, tall--like, really tall--and lanky, with dark coloring. He looks about college-age, but I wouldn’t be able to ballpark a number. I want to say he’s slightly familiar, too, but I have no idea why. The memory of maybe seeing him before is strong enough that I blurt out the question on my mind without even thinking.

“—Do I—do I know you?" 

He gives me a second, longer glance as he draws his hands off my arm. He shakes his head. 

"I don't think so. You don't study at the medical center, do you?" Now it's my turn. I shake my head, sniffling hard. 

"No, I'm still in high school. Must have thought... I don't know. Sorry again, my mistake." 

I'm only a step away when he calls back out. "Do you know Riku Imakura by any chance?" 

I perk up at the name. That's the guy I saw Riku arguing with all those months ago! Man, my facial recognition skills are better than I thought. 

"Yeah," I say, turning back. "He's my…” I swallow hard, voice wavering a little. “He’s my boyfriend. And you... you're from his hometown, right?" He nods, a small smile on his face. "I don't remember your name. Or... I don't think Riku ever gave it to me." 

"It's Noah," he says. 

"Sora," I return. 

"Sora," he confirms. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" 

And here come the tears again. His genuine concern almost bowls me over and I’m sobbing in the middle of the street, no longer caring if people hear or see. The same can’t be said for Noah, I don’t think, but I don’t blame him.

"Hey, it’s alright," he says quietly, gently tapping my arm for attention. “Here, come with me.” Stupidly, I follow this total stranger into a tiny parking lot through an alley, hopping into the passenger’s seat of his old, faded red truck the second he opens the door. 

He doesn't seem to mind about my shoes on the seat, so I curl up, bawling into my knees. Noah’s silent next to me on the driver’s side, handing me off fast food napkins whenever I get snotty, shushing me gently when I begin to hyperventilate. 

"Sora, what happened?" he asks again. I'm quiet for a long time before replying. 

Discretion doesn't really occur to me: I tell this complete stranger who may not have good intentions for Riku everything, absolutely everything. I need to tell someone, or else I’ll explode.

"I found drugs in our room. Riku’s and my room. A lot of them.” It feels more real, saying it out loud, dispelling some of the hazy, vague distress in my head. "I thought... I thought that things were better for him than that. We just came out of a really hard time a few months ago and… I just. I thought things were better now." 

“I think…” Noah says it tentatively, feeling it out as he goes. “I think Riku’s really going through a hard time right now. I can’t really speak to what’s happening, but… things just seem hard for him at the moment.”

“Things are always hard for him.” I don’t mean to be so dismissive, but I’m _angry_ beyond the point of caring. “They are! He needs to learn how to handle it, he needs to know I’m _here_ , I’m _here_ for him and I can help--he doesn’t--he doesn’t need to lie to me or keep secrets anymore. Whatever he needs… I can give it to him. I _want_ to give it to him. He’s never gonna let me. We’re so… we’re fucked. We’re really, really fucked. I think I’m wasting my time.” Voicing it hurts. But it’s also cathartic. I wonder if I haven’t been feeling this way for… a while. Off and on.

“You aren’t wasting your time,” Noah says softly. “Riku cares about you a lot.” I look up, eyes wide.

“Did he tell you that?” I ask. Noah shakes his head slowly.

“We don’t really talk. He just seems… I don’t know. Protective of you. Whenever I try to ask about you, he’ll start giving me these one-word answers. But he also seems… softer. I don’t know, maybe I just sound crazy. I just have this gut feeling that you’re the thing he cares about. We all have one thing we put above everything else, right? That was med school for me, growing up. But for Riku, I think it’s you.” I let out a slow breath, mildly unconvinced. “You guys are young. You’re probably going to go off and have other relationships eventually. But I wouldn’t say you’re wasting your time.”

“He doesn’t need to protect me,” I retort. “He needs to be honest with me, even if it hurts.” Noah says nothing, he just nods in understanding. That works for me.

“I didn’t realize he kept you in the dark about his drug use.” If possible, my eyes go even wider at that.

"Wait, you _knew_?” I ask, sputtering. He confided in this guy, Riku confided in someone who he hasn’t seen in years, someone I thought he didn’t trust… but not me. He didn’t tell me he was in trouble. Why? Did he honestly think that me finding out this way would hurt less? That I’d be mad at him if he told me? That I’d tell Dad?

Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done. Except worry--a lot.

"...Yeah," Noah confesses. "I knew." 

"Why didn't you tell us? Or tell him to stop? You’re a doctor." 

He sighs, running his fingers through his black hair. 

"Soon, hopefully, but not yet.” He smiles, but I can’t return it yet. It doesn’t stop me from trying. “Besides, it wasn’t my place." Not his place… I don’t agree. I think it’s always your responsibility from keeping the people around you from hurting themselves. Keeping them safe. Making them happy. That’s all I want to do… I just wish I didn’t fail at it so badly.

"Noah?" I ask after a silence. "This isn't any of my business, but what happened between you and Riku?" 

"...I'm not sure if Riku would want you to know," Noah says carefully. I laugh, but it’s not happy. 

"Can I be honest? Right now I don't really care about what Riku doesn't want me to know." 

He must take pity on me, because he just nods and shrugs, not arguing it.

"Don't tell him I said anything, but... when he was, I dunno, around thirteen..." he trails off. Maybe changing his train of thought. Maybe changing his mind. "Riku wasn't very popular growing up. I'm four years his senior so I didn't know him that well, but I had some friends who... who thought they had plenty of good reasons to dislike him. I got caught up in a pretty nasty prank aimed at him. I told Riku I was his friend but... I wasn't, really. More like a double agent, if I can be dramatic about it for a second. It was really unfair to him. I think in a lot of ways, that was the final straw for him." 

I nod, staring blankly ahead, taking it in. I figured it was something like that. Explains why he doesn't trust anyone. Doesn't trust me. 

"You hurt him,” I say, voice dead.

“A lot.”

“And he still came to you first.”

“... I guess so.”

“He liked you, didn't he? Like, _that_ way." 

"...Yeah," says Noah. "I kind of think he did." 

"And you knew that. Back then." 

"Yes, Sora. I did." 

We let that sit between us for almost five minutes, each of us in thought, and I take that time to really examine him. His high cheekbones and strong nose, the curve of his mouth. Handsome for sure, and smart, too. No wonder Riku liked him. No wonder I don't stand a chance. 

My head feels empty. My chest, emptier. 

"He doesn't want my help,” I croak. “Never has." 

"He needs it. That's more important than what he wants." Noah sounds so sincere, I don’t have the energy to question it. 

"I guess. Hey, do you mind if I call my Dad...?" 

"Go ahead." Sliding my phone from my pocket, I give Dad a call to let him know that I'm with a friend--Noah doesn't seem to mind the title, thankfully--and that I'll be at Kairi's for the evening. Next, I call Kairi and ask if I can come over. I probably should have checked with her first, but it’s too late for that now. It doesn't matter, anyway--when I call her up, she says yes like I knew she would. We’re usually on the same wavelength. "Want me to drop you off somewhere?" 

"My friend Kairi's,” I tell him. “If that's okay." 

"It's fine," he assures me, smiling. "Just tell me where to go." 

The ride passes mostly in silence, but whenever a new round of tears start up again, Noah starts asking me questions. Nothing personal, just things about school and hobbies and my friends. I think he’s trying to get my mind off things, and after a little while, it starts to work. In turn, I ask him about college and medical school, hanging onto bits of advice he can offer about college applications and stuff. I don’t broach anything that might take us into Darry. That will just lead back to Riku, and I _can’t_ think about him right now.

When we get over to Kairi's mansion... I mean, house, I thank Noah about a thousand times. He really didn't need to be so nice to me, but I really, _really_ needed it. But he just says it's no problem, wishes me well, and unlocks the door from his side. I’m hopping out of his truck when he stops me, a gentle call grabbing my attention before I hit the road. 

"One last thing," he says. "Look...everything else aside, I like Riku. And he's never had anyone who's really pulled through so… it means a lot that you’re there for him." 

I try to grin but fail. 

"I always have been," I say instead, willing my eyes not to well up again. 

He offers me a sad, sympathetic smile and a wave before driving off. Sighing heavily, I start up the pathway to the front door of Kairi’s place. 

Kairi must’ve been waiting; she opens the door after my first series of knocks, which is unusual. Usually I have to go for the bell and one of her parents ends up letting me in while she heads downstairs. It drives me a little crazy sometimes, especially when she knows I’m coming, but I can’t really complain about having friends who want to see me. 

"What's wrong?" she asks, pulling me into a tight hug. "You didn't sound okay over the phone." 

"It's nothing," I say, but I know she doesn't believe me. I wrap my arms around her loosely in return, rocking us from side to side. "...It’s Riku." 

"Again?" she asks, which pretty much sums up how I feel in one word. She pulls back, looking me straight in the face. Her eyes and mouth are downturned, sympathy already written all over her face. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Not really," I tell her. It’s too soon--for me to talk about it, for me to start telling people in our shared friend group. 

"Let me know if you change your mind." 

"Thanks." 

We head into the large, almost sparse-seeming living room and each take a reclining chair. Kairi’s parents are cool, but they’re still a little weird about me being in her room, even though they know I’m gay. That’s fine--they usually let us have the run of the house, anyway. The only thing I don’t like about it is that, every so often, I catch one of their statues out of the corner of my eye and jump. I don't think I'll ever get used to those... when we graduate and Kairi moves out, I'm gonna advise her _against_ adopting her family’s interior decorating style... 

"...Want to watch a movie or something?" Kairi asks, motioning to the pile of DVDs already scattered across the glass coffee table. And I don't, not really, but I think watching a bunch of thirty-year-olds pretending to be high schoolers is just what I need to stay distracted. 

I nod my consent.

"Okay, yeah! You pick." 

We end up marathoning romcom after romcom, barely speaking except to make the odd joke here and there or to decide what snacks we want next. It’s not long before I’m having fun. In fact, the next time I look at the clock it's almost nine at night and I'm almost surprised by it, which just goes to show where my head is. Guess I'm staying the night, then. I shoot my Dad a text to let him know I’ll be back in the morning, grinning a little when he texts me back, telling me to have fun. A part of me feels like I should be at home right now to help out with whatever’s happening, but I think Dad understands my need to be away. 

"You okay?" she asks again before we finally drift off to sleep, somewhere around two in the morning. She's slurring a little and her eyes aren't totally open, but like just about everything about her, it's totally endearing. I think she would've wanted to be asleep hours ago, but I appreciate that she still popped in one more movie and opened another bag of chips when she noticed that I was still restless. I chug the rest of my soda before responding. 

"Yeah, I'm feeling way better. Do you want to finish the movie or just go to bed?" No response. "Uh, Kairi?" Okay, she's snoring. This is bad. I hope out of the reclining chair and stretch, picking up some of the candy wrappers and soda cans on my way to the hall and dump them in the kitchen trash before grabbing some blankets from the linen closet. 

My eyes are tired; more tired than the rest of me, I think. 

I throw one blanket over her and curl up in another, mess around with the chair until I can lower the back enough, and all I can do after that is just try to get a good night's sleep. 

*

I start at eleven when Kairi's dad wakes us accidentally, all groggy and exhausted. Least Kairi's a little more awake than I am, hair mussed and still curled into the same position she fell asleep in last night. 

"You're going to have fun trying to get up," I tell her, beginning to stretch out and put my chair back together. 

"I think my back is broken," she says, tenderly beginning to spread out and stand. "Mm..." I watch her for a second while I gather my wits and wake up a little. Everything from yesterday seems to hit me at once and I wish I could just go back and... I don't know. Un-know it. But I have to face Riku sooner or later. Better now after a night of laughing and a stomach full of junk food, I think. 

"Thanks for putting up with my sorry ass," I tell her, pulling my jacket back on and grabbing my keys and phone. 

"It's my burden," she sighs dramatically. I grin. 

"You sure you don't need any help getting up?" I ask one last time as I cross the living room and begin to head into the hallway that leads to the front door. 

"I'm okay, but oh, wait up!" I stop right away, a little antsy as Kairi gains her footing enough to come meet me. 

"I promise I won't bug you about this anymore but... if anything is seriously wrong, you can tell me, you know that? I’m not going to judge you, or Riku, if that’s what you’re afraid of." I almost, almost want to tell her. 

"It's nothing,” I promise, hoping I’m right in the long run. “Or at least, nothing we can't handle." When she smiles at me, I think she just might be the warmest person I’ve ever met.

"I know. Still, I'm here if you need me." 

I nod, taking her hand and gently squeezing it. 

"I know you are. Thank you." 

*

After a good night, I was hoping that just looking at Riku wouldn’t be enough to send me into some weird rage, or make me want to cry again. No dice. When Riku greets me as I walk through the door, I still feel positively shitty.

"Hey," I mumble, preparing to walk right by him until he grabs my shoulder and gently guides me back to face him. I pull away. "I'm going upstairs," I tell him firmly, leaving without so much as another glance in his direction. Maybe I just need time to be mad before I go into fix-it mode. I think that’s okay. 

"I'm coming with you," he replies. Great. Just what I need. 

Sitting on our bed together melts the tension a little bit, but I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe a part of me is relieved that we've already gone back to some semblance of a routine. I feel like I should grab my laptop, Riku a book, and that we should just lounge for hours. Like maybe this isn't the point of no return. Sure, I'm uncomfortably reminded of when Riku promised me he'd get rid of his knife, let me sacrifice my dad's shirt, then tried to hide the truth from me. Maybe I'm still burning from that a little and I didn’t even know it...

“You always want to know what’s going on,” Riku says softly. “And now you don’t want to hear me out. Please, listen to me.”

So I let him talk, let him regurgitate all the same stuff he was telling me yesterday. Talking leads to kissing, then all of the sudden I totally don't mind as he rolls on top of me and slips in his tongue and slides a hand in my jeans. I know exactly what he's doing, but I don't want to think about it. I grab his wrist like he'll leave me, following the motion of his hand, palming between my legs. For the first time I find myself thinking, in so many words, that I want him to fuck me. Right now I love him and I’m so mad at him and I want to be as close to him as I can possibly be. 

"Don't," I mutter whenever he stops. So we keep on and on and for a while I feel that much better, closing my eyes and melting at his every clumsy touch. 

"Sora," Riku says quietly, slowing after I come (again). 

"Hm?" 

"I'm going out for a while, okay?" 

"...What?" I sputter more at him than to him, scrambling to get up. "But Dad said..." He smiles at me, but it's one of those smiles you'd give a little kid. I don't like it one bit. It sets me on edge, but it's not enough to kill my boner completely... which is almost the most annoying part. 

"Sora, I don't care what your dad said. I'm going out. Cover for me, okay?" 

“You--are--Are you going to see your friends? The ones you…” I’m feeling it out as I go, looking for a confirmation. “The ones you’ve been seeing? That keep getting you drunk and high?” 

He has the nerve to roll his eyes. “I’m going to the beach. I need to get out of this fucking house for a while.”

For a long time, I stare at the empty space where Riku was just standing before he left without another word. I feel headachey and disoriented when my cell phone rings, forcing me out of bed and over to the desk where I left it. Whoever's calling is really persistent, too. They call three times, one right after the other. It's an unknown, out of town call, too, which makes it even more irritating. They've probably got a wrong number...

"Hello?" I ask, not even trying to hide my grouchiness. 

"Sora?" 

"Er, yeah?" 

"Hey, it's Roxas!" I can't help but perk up at the name, heart leaping. 

"Roxas? Hey! How are you?" 

"Fine, I'm fine." There’s a beat where he doesn’t say anything else, but I don’t really want to ask why he’s calling and risk sounding even more like a jerk. “So, I uh… I just moved!” 

"Oh!" My heart rate picks up even more. I wonder… if there’s any chance... 

"Yeah. I meant to tell you a lot sooner, but we’re back down in Okeanos. I didn't want Hayner and Pence to know before camp ended, or else they'd make a big deal out of it. " I shut my eyes, taking a seat at the desk. It’s all I can do not to shout. Oh man, did I _desperately_ need some good news. 

"That’s amazing! Wait, do you think you’ll be going to my school this year?" 

"Okeanos High?" he confirms. I nod, forgetting he can’t see. 

"Yup, that’s mine! Man, you don't know how happy I am! Hey--are you busy? Can I help you unpack?" 

"Err... yeah! You sure you want to?" I nod again. "Hello?" 

"Yeah! Just tell me where to be and when." After he reads me off his new address I jot down a note for Dad and leave right away, eager to get started. I can’t wait to see Roxas again! And honestly, I’m just happy for another distraction from the bucket of crap that is currently my life. 

*

It probably takes me more than a half-hour from the moment I leave the house to get there. The bus ride's a longer one than I'm used to and his house is tucked away and pretty hard to find. It doesn't help that I'm really not used to this area of the city. It looks kind of far away from the school, though, so I wonder why he doesn't just go to the closer of the two? It seems way more convenient. I ponder all of this as I ring the doorbell, once, twice, three times, four times, wondering if I even have the right address. Guess I'm in luck, though; if I listen closely I can hear someone stomping around inside, and Roxas emerges not a minute later. 

"Hey, sorry. I was in my room and by the time I heard the doorbell ring I had to fight my way past like, ten boxes." 

I grin. "It's cool! How are you settling in so far?" 

"Pretty good," he says, stepping aside to let me in. He follows a pace or so behind and shuts the door, locking it tight. "I actually grew up here, so it feels more like... I went on vacation for a long time, or something." 

I hum in acknowledgment as I take everything in. Roxas's house is awfully gray and depressing, like we just stepped into a big, faded picture. But from the cans of paint laying around, it looks like the it'll be fixed up soon enough. I'm sure it'll look awesome when they're done; it's a really cool old house, color scheme aside. 

"Where're your parents?" I ask as we work our way down the hall, twisting into Roxas’ small room. 

"Running errands. They should be back soon." Roxas struggles the door to open for a few seconds--looks like the wood's expanded over time or something--until he can finally work it open. 

I take a seat on his bed, bypassing the sheets and bedspread crumpled on the corner of the mattress, as Roxas beelines toward an open box full of clothes. 

Oops! What did I just sit on... I stand just enough to pull out whatever's under me before making myself comfortable. It's plastic, I think, and tubular, filled with blue gel with a crystal inside, and it sort of moves and squirms when I squeeze it. I have no idea what this thing is, but it sure is fun! 

"You could be helping me out a little," Roxas says, tossing a shirt at me. "Isn't that why you came?" 

"Nah, I lied." 

"Lazy ass," he says, laughing. I throw the shirt back at him; it lands right on his shoulder, so he shakes it off and throws it in a drawer. 

"That was helping, right?" I ask, which makes him laugh again. When he's done, I have a question for him. "...Hey." 

"What?" 

"So why'd you move back?" That sounds really weird, so I cover for my mistake. "I mean, I'm glad that you did. But..." 

"We just wanted to come home," he says firmly, beginning to pick up the socks again, stuffing them into an old, cheap-looking wooden dresser. I jump when the door downstairs slams, causing the windows in this room to shake. Roxas seems unfazed. 

"We're home!" a woman calls. Slowly Roxas stands, grabs my arm, and drags me out of his room. Oh, okay--introduction time, I guess. 

"Hey!" Roxas says quickly, almost like he's reciting a report he can't finish soon enough. "This is Sora, we met at camp. He's keeping me company while I unpack."

I greet them with a wave and a, "Hiya!" as they set groceries down on a sealed box.

Roxas looks almost nothing like his dad, and even less like his mom. Things make a little more sense when we all get introduced: she's Roxas' stepmother, so Roxas must take after his biological mother. I wonder what happened to her... not that it's my place to ask.

They ask me a couple of vague questions about myself--where in the city I live, where I go to school, how I know Roxas--seeming to assess me as I answer. It's kinda weird, but my upbringing has _also_ been weird, so... maybe this is normal? I guess I pass though, because Roxas' stepmom says that it was nice meeting me and they both go on their way. 

We return to Roxas' room get to work. I slice open boxes with a pair of safety scissors and slide the boxes over to where it makes sense--books by the bookshelf, clothes in the closet, school supplies under his desk. We're a good team! Kind of a relief to know that we get along just as naturally out of camp as we did in. We work hard until he gets called for dinner and I decide I should really get home. 

"There's enough for one more," Roxas says as I pat my pockets for my keys and phone at the door. "You sure you want to head out?" 

"It's no trouble at all," Roxas' stepmother assures me. 

"I'd love to," I tell them honestly. "But it's going to get dark soon and I really want to beat my dad home so he doesn't worry. It was great meeting you guys. Hopefully I'll be seeing more of you!" 

"Have a safe trip back, Sora," says Roxas' stepmother. His father emerges from the kitchen for the first time through this whole exchange to let me know that there's a faster bus route I can take, and I'm glad for the advice. I couldn't say why, but I'm homesick right now. 

I hope when I get home things feel safe and normal. But even if they don't, I feel like I can handle it, thanks to my friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday Friday so I'm gonna try and get yall a second chapter this week to celebrate (even though this fic is bleak af right now haha). wish me luck omg


	28. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku struggles to figure out his place at home and with friends.

In the days after Sora’s little discovery, everything changes. 

Mr. Hart circles me, watching, asking questions and looking for holes in my answers. He tells me to keep my door open, he tells me to come downstairs for dinner when he’s hardly started cooking. He looks at me more closely than ever, realizing for the first time that we’re strangers and not family.

Sora and I never quite recover. Or, if I want to be optimistic, we haven’t yet. He’s friendly enough still but there’s a clear distance between us, a hesitance, a separation. He’s wary of me, closed up, like we’re strangers and not lovers. I miss him, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. He hurts like I knew he would, and nothing I do seems to fix it. It’s like I can feel him love me less. It’s like I could never feel him love me at all. 

This is why I didn’t want him to know. 

No one asks me why. Not really. They’ve already framed it--me--as a problem to be fixed without so much as gathering an ounce of input from the subject of their anxiety.

Nathan used to ask me why I had to make everything such a fucking ordeal.

This is why I didn’t want them to know. 

I slip out of the house after everyone’s asleep to see Axel. To go to the club, to do whatever once we get there. I know I said I’d stop once Sora was back, but I thought Sora’s return would come with his attention and it doesn’t--it’s just me and my head, and this vague, constant craving for cocktails or, more potently, heroin. Not like I’m addicted or anything, it’s just a small thing, and then I consume, and it goes away for a while. Like when Sora wants cookies and he makes some and he’s fine. It is fine.

So it’s ridiculous that this is such a big deal, that I’m being treated like this. 

House arrest again. Fuck everything.

\

I hate July. Mr. Hart takes it upon himself to keep me busy, and I don't appreciate it. I don't want to go to more writing workshops, I don't want to take days to go to the beach, and I definitely don't want to be pulled away from my room just to go out to dinner and watch a movie I don't want to see. I guess he thinks that if he just forces the three of us to bond as a family I'll straighten out on my own, but he couldn't be more wrong. I almost consider making it a game to see if I can go with them high and see if they notice, but that's too risky, and I'm not about to get cocky and blow my cover. 

So I try to play nice as best as I can and do what’s asked of me, on time, without argument. Fine. 

But I also start sneaking drugs again. Smaller quantities, higher hiding spots. To be taken immediately at first chance. I know it isn’t permanent, but right now heroin is the only thing that brings me any real joy. I knew from the first time I tried it, when that sleepy, calm overtook me, that this was the substantial something that had been missing from my life for so long. Like finding a soulmate after being alone my entire life. Like I’ve been dying of a deep sickness and found a cure.

It probably isn’t permanent. I’ll feel back to normal soon, whatever that means, even if things never go back to normal with Sora and his dad. It stings, but I’m not blindsided. I knew this would happen, that our tentative peace with each other wouldn’t last, so I try not to hurt. 

It would have been nice to be wrong. For once.

\

By August, sixteen has come and gone. We all celebrate my seventeenth birthday together and I get through it the best as I can, which I can tell isn’t good enough for Sora or his dad, but what else is fucking new. I don’t care, I can’t care, because my goal is right in front of me, so close I can almost reach out and touch it.

Eighteen. The word sounds like freedom.

One more year and I’m finally on my own for good. I can't believe I’m so close, that I might actually make it. Then I can finally be where I really want to be, doing what I want to do, without anyone stopping me. I can’t say what that may mean for me next year--I might be an entirely new person by then. But if I had my way now, I’d be here, doing exactly this.

The world bleeds around me, into me, when I’m on Ecstasy. Backed against the wall, I’m hanging onto my new friend as tightly as I can. His every touch seems electric, pleasure that's been magnified 2000 percent. I never knew it was possible to feel as amazing as I do now, or as frantic. I want to do everything all at the same time and I probably could, too. 

My friend breathes the words, surrounded by the scent of bourbon, into my ear. I catch barely any of it, drifting in and out of reality with every hazy passing second. "How--?" 

"Hm?" 

"How old are you, kitten?" 

Kitten. I should hate that he calls me that but I can’t. I should hate that he saw me last Halloween with Selphie’s dumb cat ears on my head and remembered me all this time, but I don’t. And I should hate how endearing he found it the first time I called him _sir_ for the lack of a better name, and how fervently he’s insisted on hearing it from me, over and over. I don’t.

"Sixteen, sir," I answer, still habit even though it’s not true anymore. He seems intrigued. I’m unsurprised. 

"I would have pegged you for nineteen," his voice, silky smooth, penetrates my brain. 

"Oh yeah?" 

"At youngest." I can't help but grin, taking notice that he's pressed up closer to me than ever, lips ghosting along my face. "You're much too worldly for sixteen." His compliment makes me shine. Worldly. Finally, someone gets it--he doesn’t feed me any false or obligatory concerns, doesn’t try to fucking parent me, just leaves me be to live my life, _my_ life--

"Ick. Come on, lovebirds, break it up. It's time to go." 

I groan a little as Axel rudely interrupts our moment. 

"Don't want to go," I slur at him, clutching onto Sir's shirt, but Axel huffs and grabs my shoulder, steering me away. 

"Too bad," he says. "I'm bored." 

Sir asks me to come back tomorrow. Axel asks if I don’t still have a boyfriend to be worrying about.

I try not to think too hard about it. 

\ 

The walk back to Axel’s place is long enough to sober me up a little, though it’s not a long walk, not far removed from the same dirty, dingy part of town in which I feel so at ease. I don't try to count anymore how many dealers stalk these areas at night, or the sex workers of every shape, gender expression, color. Axel can greet them all by name, and they seem to hold a silent respect for each other--or at least something that resembles it. Us, too. They’ve never approached me for business of any kind, and we're friendly with each other. 

I lose track of how long it takes us to get back, because time speeds up and slows down around me. When we return, the front door is ajar, that gap a deep, black, gaping maw in front of us. I frown, hesitating. Even high, my guard is up. Axel is unfazed. 

"Well, who can that possibly be?" he calls. I take a step in, following Axel inside and turning to close the door. I frown again, or maybe I never stopped. 

Why are Marluxia and Larxene here? 

Axel nudges me deeper into the house as he talks with his intruders, dismissing me with, "You know where everything is." 

I make myself at home in his room, leaving cash on his dresser and grabbing the first thing I can get my hands on, which happens to be heroin. It feels like a sign, and I’m relieved. 

So lightweight in my hands. You shake my world.

I didn’t realize how badly I wanted you.

I used to be afraid of needles. Not anymore. But then, I'm not really afraid of anything anymore. Not when I'm so, so free, so infallible, invulnerable, invincible. 

\ 

I'm not sure when I fell asleep, or blacked out, or whatever I did. But when I wake up it's five in the morning, and the TV is on in the next room, static blaring from ancient speakers. When I muster the strength to stand, I wobble over to the living room. I wonder what an overdose feels like, because if it's something you can manage without dying, I think I've done it. I feel so weak... but maybe that’s because I haven’t really eaten anything of substance since about two days ago. I should probably fix that... 

I let my eyes adjust to the darkness first, then to the severe light coming from the television. Marluxia's long gone, from the looks of it, but Larxene is still here--which I find out when she screams at me for turning the TV off, and startles the fuck out of me. Fumbling with the remote, I switch it back on and quickly retreat to Axel's room. Fuck, I just want my heart rate to go back to normal... 

I don't know where Axel is; maybe he crashed in the living room, maybe he went out again. But either way I need sleep, so I crawl back into my place on his bed and doze. 

For the remainder of the night I have visions of all the fighting Mr. Hart and I have been doing lately. Maybe it's guilt or something worse trying to eat at me through my subconscious, I don't know. 

I dream of, "You weren't supposed to be out." 

and, "You’re going to wind up dead." 

and, “We’re just worried about your safety.”

until it turns into, “Everything has to be a fucking ordeal with you.”

and, “Get out of my sight.”

and, “You humiliated me.”

My whole world is a blur of Mr. Hart’s fingertips on my shoulder and Nathan’s palm against my face. I used to be the one who’d get yelled at, but now I’m the one who yells.

I don’t understand people who never scream, never hit back. It’s only a matter of time until that changes, until I’m back to what I faced death to escape from.

\

I wake up feeling like shit, Axel nestled between the sheets by my side. The hell... when did that happen... 

"What're you doing?" I mutter, rubbing my eyes and sitting up. Noisily, Axel turns over, grumbles something I can't understand, but doesn't wake. It’s an invasion of personal space I could have done without, but it’s his bed, after all... and there’s a part of me that maybe likes waking up next to someone more than I can admit.

Last month, Sora asked me to move into the room downstairs. He said it might be for the best right now. We haven’t slept together since. It sucks. It really, really fucking sucks.

God, I'm exhausted. I wind myself up in Axel's sheets as I toss and turn, scanning the room for any indicator of what time or day it is. 

Fuck, no wonder I'm so tired... it's only 8AM.

I give myself three more hours, vaguely remembering a time that I would’ve considered this sleeping in. Remembering a day I walked into class late, hungover, and Ansem took one look at me and told me to leave, and the look he gave me that was almost disappointed. Whatever. It's not like that class was worth anything, really. It’s not like any of this is worth anything. High school, my childhood, my relationship with Sora. It’s all ending. Everything ends.

\

"School's starting soon," Mr. Hart says, looking at me over his sandwich when I get back from Axel's. He’s eating over the kitchen sink, looking at me from the corner of his eye as I pull the strings out of a stick of celery at the counter. "Only two weeks to go now, right?"

Great, time for another speech about how I have to straighten up and make it through school and whatever else, all under that really annoying "I care and this is for the best" guise. For six years, under my aunt and under Nathan, I lived with family who could pretend to give a shit really convincingly when they had to. I know better. 

"Before you go back, let's get you some new clothes. Maybe sometime next week?" 

I almost roll my eyes. Okay, so I’ve lost fifteen pounds this summer and that’s _bad_. I get it already. It’s bad enough that Sora looks at me like I’m dying. I’ve given up on trying to fit in with this fucking family.

"I guess so." 

He smiles and offers me a pat on the shoulder again before walking off. 

Okay? So this is suddenly a thing, the two of us co-existing and not talking about drugs for once? Now what, is Sora just going to suddenly come up to me and tell me that he wants to share a room again? 

This is too weird. 

I have to get to the bottom of this. 

Following this ever-confusing, ever-irritating man, I stomp upstairs and barge into his study, startling Mr. Hart out of his thoughts, out of his work. I don't care. 

"Why don't you hate me? Why--why haven’t you-- _why am I still here_?" The words are unintentional, tumbling out of my mouth, and if I'd thought about it first, I wouldn't have worded it like that at all. Mr. Hart looks suitably confused, then it just gives way to pity. Oh, fuck this. 

"I could never hate you," he says calmly. “Riku, is there something you’d like to talk about?”

I leave as quickly as I came, unsatisfied with his answer and unable, unwilling, to hear him feed me the same lines about how he’s _here_ if I _need_ anything.

It all amounts to more riddles to work out. I can’t deal with it right now.

\

Following that exchange, my next prediction comes true. Sort of. 

Sora makes one of his rare appearances at home in the afternoon. He’s barely ever here anymore, always out with Kairi or that friend he made at camp, or school friends, or who the fuck ever. The bottom line is that I’m stuck here all day going stir crazy all day, every day, while he’s out having the time of his fucking life. And I don’t even know what to do to make him give me the time of day again, so I’ve just been pulling back more and more. Fuck if I know what he wants. Kind of telling though, how far I plummet on his priority list once we stop fucking around together. 

I still head out of my room to greet him but tell myself it's to grab some water from the kitchen, and I can't help but notice that Sora's a little... I don't know. Low-energy. Melancholy.

So I take the bait. 

"What's wrong?" 

He looks surprised I asked, wavering before speaking. 

"Kairi wanted to throw a pool party before school starts, but I still don’t know how to swim. It’s kind of…” he lets out a long breath, drawing his hand across the back of his head before dropping it heavily into his lap. “Embarrassing." 

"I'll teach you," I offer quickly, not even sure where that came from after it comes out of me. He looks at me closely, like he’s trying to evaluate if I’m about to take this away from him.

"Really?" 

"Yeah. Let's go." 

His eyes go wide.

"...Right now?" he asks.

"Right now," I tell him. He looks at me carefully. Doesn't respond right away. 

"...Okay, Riku. Sounds fun!" 

\

We decide on a beach and set out, keys and towels in hand. It’s one I haven’t been to but Sora speaks highly of, having gone a lot toward the end of the year while I was studying or with Axel. Sometimes I wonder if things would have panned out a little differently for me if I'd ever tagged along when they invited me. But only sometimes. 

We board the bus together, Sora looking cute in blue swim trunks and a white tee. The ride is long, traffic intense as everyone seems to have the idea of going to the beach. And why not? Summer's ending. This is everyone's last chance, not just ours. 

The minute the bus doors open Sora and I are pushing our way out, off the pavement and onto the sand, I'm stripping out of jeans and into my swimsuit underneath, and we're running into the water. He stops once the water laps at his knees, taking a big step back, away from the roll of a small wave.

"Okay, how do you want to do this?" he calls, turning to look over his shoulder and smiling sheepishly when he realizes I'm right behind him. 

"Here." 

I take his hand, leading him a little further out into the sea. Together we figure out how best to dive under the waves so we don’t get bowled over, until the shore is quiet and distant, until we’re two of few. Perfect.

Sora's nervous, twittering and chattering and laughing a little too hard once his feet can't touch the ground beneath us anymore, but at the same time I think he trusts me. Or else he wouldn't let me do this. 

I can't remember the last time I actually went swimming, but I remember enough to show Sora the basics, just enough so he'll be able to feel comfortable on his own. 

I take his hands in mine, gently guiding him, showing him what to do, how to tread water, how to stay afloat. But then, haven't I always been teaching him how to stay afloat?

Maybe this was our purpose all along. No matter how this ends, maybe I was always meant to teach him everything I could before we part. I hope I taught him well.

He takes to it naturally, keeping his head above water on his own as he becomes more comfortable, but it doesn’t stop me from coming up behind him and resting my hands over his, our legs cycling at different intervals, feet brushing together when we’re not careful. 

His eyes shut, I press my cheek against his wet hair. For a single sweet moment we remain like this, floating and serene, just us, and I actually start to remember why we were so great together. I let myself forget about Axel and his friends, about Zachary Noah, about Ansem and heroin and fighting, and...

That’s when the massive wave rises out of nowhere and attacks us. 

For one shaky, overstimulating moment I have no idea what's going on. My senses are overloaded, the breath has been knocked out me and _I can't find Sora_. 

We get pushed back ashore like the ocean is kicking us out, the sounds of other people, their dogs, traffic from miles away, all rushing back. A reminder that the outside world still exists. Sora's somehow ended up at least a foot away from me but still he gently reaches out, trying to hold my hand. Our fingers bump and brush against one another's but we can't quite get a grip. And that's okay. 

I don’t want to move from the warmth of the sun and sand; it feels amazing. The feel of his fingertips is better. 

"I love you," Sora says, and with that we shut our eyes and fall into comfortable silence.

\

The sun is setting when we board the bus again. Honestly, I think most of our time was spent laying in the sand and not doing anything. Hopefully what I showed Sora is enough. For now, at least. 

I'd better not have a sunburn... 

The whole atmosphere in the house is calm and light when we get back. Dinner isn't quiet, but I'm not on the verge of fighting with anyone either. It's kind of nice… for a while.

“Hey,” I say, waiting until we finish up. “I think I’m going to head out.” Then it’s all stony silence and _where will you be? How long? Who with?_ And it’s always _no one, no one, I just want to get out a little, I don’t have an end goal, I’m not planning anything_.

Mr. Hart is too soft to say no; he just advises me very strongly to stay home. Ridiculous.

I hang around downstairs until everyone settles in for the night, and set out.

\ 

Inexplicably, I end up at Zachary’s.

I try my damndest not to question my own sudden lack of decision-making skills while he studies. For almost four hours I watch his pretentious vintage movies, picking them out at random from a box on the floor. It feels like we’re just parodying ourselves at this point. Falling back into the same routine that we had four years ago, when we were friends. Like we were ever friends.

Then he’s off to bed and I’m cast out, the idea of going back to the Harts’ an anxious pit in my stomach.

I wasn’t planning to go to the club tonight, but… summer’s almost ending. Once school starts I won’t be coming around hardly at all, so I should get this out of my system now. 

I barely recall getting on the bus. Or off, or walking, or any of it.

All I care about is that the bouncer lets me slide in without waiting in line, albeit not without rolling his eyes. He doesn’t even seem to care that I’m not with Axel--in fact, he seems a little glad that he doesn’t have to deal with us, which I guess says a lot about the company I’ve been keeping. No one reacts to Sora that way. Ever.

Except maybe me, on some of my worse days.

I push my way through the crowd, seeking out the person I think I’ve been craving more than anything. _Sir_ is lounging at the bar as usual, looking casual but regal, his long, silvery hair partially slicked back, eyes seemingly aglow. 

I swallow hard; I’m not usually here so early, and he’s going to be happy to see me, I know it.

Biting down a smile, I weave my way closer to him, only to find--

He’s chatting up a woman, his hand resting gently on her waist. They look intimate, familiar with each other.

If she’s his wife or girlfriend, one of us is about to be very unhappy. 

Fuck.

I march up to them, biting down bile, preparing myself for the scene about to unfold. 

“And here he is,” Sir says, reaching out to me with his free hand. He nearly slams it onto my head, threading his fingers through my hair once before I shake him off. He’s not a particularly gentle drunk--that’s his only tell. I didn’t realize that before. “We were just talking about you.”

“Me?” I ask, eyeing the Daiquiri in Sir’s hand with greedy impatience.

“What is he, twelve?” the woman asks derisively, barely even looking at me. Sir’s fingers tap against her skin once or twice, causing her to laugh.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three,” he responds, making me bristle. I told him my age not even a week ago, and he’s forgotten already?

He sends me a coy look, and I realize he’s covering for me. Relief floods me. 

Stupid, idiotic. Myself, I mean.

“Still a baby,” she says dismissively.

Sir must see that I’m about to lash out, because he rests a hand on my hip, running his fingers in deep motions over my jeans. This feels uncomfortably close to some kind of weird three-way relationship, and I’m not about that.

“Kitten,” he says, and I hate it when it’s in front of this interloper, I hate this all when I’m sober. I just want her to go away so he can start buying me drinks. I need to be drunk. But they keep going. Chatting.

I just faze out while they talk, because fuck it. I faze out and don’t pay attention, even as this stranger pets me like I’m his possession, even as they laugh and ignore me, even as I hear them start throwing around words like _fiance_.

“Wait, what?” I ask, snapping back into the room. She laughs, and I glare at her, and it makes her laugh harder.

“That was a long time ago,” Sir says, still with his hand on my hip.

“Ooh, God,” she hoots. “We must’ve broken that off… what, fifteen, twenty years ago?”

I go cold to my toes. Before I was even born, he was engaged to be married. I knew he was older, but...

This just makes it so real.

"...I..." 

I’m stuttering and I can’t think of anything quick to say like I usually can when I’m here, because I’m not high or drunk. I’m just _me_ and too easily dumbfounded, too quick to feel shaken. Sir is laughing and his hand is on me. 

"To be a young man again,” he muses. “And a virgin, too." The cold in me is replaced by all-encompassing, suffocating heat. How does he know that? Why would I have ever told him? 

I slip from his hand, sputtering some excuse about needing to leave, and push my way through the crowd. I don’t regain my breath or my sense of self until I spill into the street, the cool night air and the smell of piss from the street surrounding me. I don’t fucking belong here. I can’t go back. 

I can’t go back there and I don’t have a home, not really. My entire life is just crossing places and people off a list and waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.

I’m sick of moving and settling and getting my hopes up. I’m sick of not enough happening then everything happening all at once. I just want Sora and heroin and peace.

For the lack of anywhere better to go, I pick a direction and just start walking. Sometimes that’s the easiest thing to do. And sometimes it’s the only thing.


	29. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora does the best he can with what he has.

The rest of the summer is rocky. Things at home are strained, tense, and nothing Dad or I try to do seems to fix it at all. One lovely highlight happened around the middle of July, when we all went to the aquarium together. It was pretty clear Riku didn’t want to be there, and he took it out on us at every turn: I’ve never seen Riku more hostile or angry or eager to pick a fight. Not totally sure how to handle it without causing a scene in front of a bunch of families, Dad and I ended up going off on our own while Riku hung out by the pufferfish, glued to his phone. When we came to collect him for lunch, he insisted he wasn’t hungry and moped around in the cafeteria, not even touching his food. Refusing to eat is kind of his thing now, I guess. 

When he’s not angry he’s lethargic and abnormally tired, which brings back bad memories of seeing him over-medicated on all the wrong medicine last winter. I’ve started avoiding him a little, knowing that he’s going to be sullen and moody at best, and now… we really don’t talk anymore.

It’s sad. I pictured myself hanging out with Riku all summer, exploring new places and having fun together. Making memories. Getting to be best friends and out-and-proud _boyfriends_. But Riku’s gone most of the time, and when he’s home he’s fighting with Dad, or me, and it’s exhausting and I don’t know how to deal with it. Sometimes I don’t even want to.

I battle with myself all the time, because I really do want to help. I see him hurting so badly and I try to reach out to him, but we’re so far past the point in our relationship where he doesn’t _want_ the help: he doesn’t even see that I’m reaching for him anymore.

For a lack of any better options I just… try to have a good summer.

I start taking driving lessons in July, and once August rolls around I spend so much time behind the wheel that I feel super confident. It’s also hours and hours of quality time with Dad, which I’m never gonna turn down. I can’t wait to get my license when I turn sixteen. Even through everything going on right now, I can’t lose sight of how much exciting stuff I have to look forward to. When I’m not with Dad, I’m usually with Roxas, and together we have fun just kicking it around town.

Then, toward the end of August, right when school’s just around the corner, something weird happens: Riku starts spending more time at home again. He seems tired at first and I’m just worried he’s burned himself out on drugs and alcohol, but then he slowly starts coming around. He starts volunteering to watch movies with me and Dad, the two of us start playing video games again.

Then he starts teaching me how to swim, and that changes everything: suddenly we’re smiling and laughing together again. Things feel easy and natural like they do when they’re good.

I can hardly keep track of the days we spend together, him teaching me to swim, me teaching him the joys of third base. We're inseparable again, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

I don’t know if it’ll last, but I really can't concentrate on that. Or, I don't want to at any rate. 

*

School sneaks up on me like it does everyone else, but luckily my first day starts out easy enough. I grab a seat near the front of my first period room, right next to the exit so I can make a bee-line to my next class on the opposite side of the campus as soon as the bell rings. I'm one of the last people in, so already I'm getting a good idea of what kind class this is going to be... a couple mousy kids in the back, a lot of jocks, and the kid who asked me to dance at last year's homecoming in the seat behind me. This could be really fun, or it'll be a disaster. So far I'm hoping and betting on the former. Bummed that I don't have any friends in this class, though. I think I'd feel a little less nervous if I did. I wish first-day nerves weren’t a thing.

But like some sort of divine answer from above, the next person who walks in is Roxas. 

"Hey!" I shout, back straightening instantly and waving him over. Okay, I guess that wasn't necessary... I'm not surprised that half the class is staring at our new addition. Roxas waves bashfully, probably embarrassed by the sudden attention. Whoops!

"Hey," is his delayed reply, a little subdued-sounding as he takes the empty seat in front of mine. 

"You look tired," I note, watching as he sluggishly hoists his duct tape-patched backpack up onto the desk and starts fishing for his pencil case. 

"I am," he shrugs and turns around, giving me a smile. "Guess I got too used to sleeping in till noon." 

"Me too." I laugh, but he doesn't quite join in. "Man, you don't know how happy I am to see you." 

It's at that moment our teacher stands and introduces himself and begins to talk a little bit about what we're in for. Already he's hilarious; maybe he'll actually make learning economics sort of somewhat interesting. 

Period one passes fast, and I'm lucky enough to see another familiar face when I rush into my next class of the day. I didn't think it would ever happen, but Riku and I have a class together: health studies! I'm so unbelievably stoked. It's automatically my favorite class, even if it's nothing but boring lectures full of stuff I could've figured out by myself.

“Ugh, not you again,” Riku says, grinning when he sees me walk in and pulling the seat out next to him. I bump him with my shoulder on the way in, the two of us breaking into these gross little snickers.

Hearing him crack a little wiseass joke makes me feel infinitely better about how he's doing. Maybe turning seventeen changed him. Maybe he's realized he needs to get his priorities straight for his senior year. Or maybe just spending some time with me in this atmosphere has reminded him that there are things more important than going out and doing illegal things with shady, questionable, mystery friends. 

But that’s behind us now. I hope. 

If things keep going well, I think I’ll invite him to move back up into my room. Asking him to leave was a hard decision; one I didn’t take lightly at all. 

Actually, I _hated_ doing it. It really felt like the beginning of the end for a while, but… it’s better now.

My extended break, then math, lunch, psychology, and literature all go just fine, and the day's gone by so fast I can hardly believe it when I'm boarding the bus home with Riku. It feels like we were just arriving not ten minutes ago. Guess I can only hope every day goes by this fast before Christmas comes around. 

Dinner is easy, too. Dad's home early, so I get to help him cook and tell him all about my day. Of course, getting any information out of Riku is like pulling teeth, but Dad finally gets him to at least give us that his day was "fine,” then he’s back to his homework. Still, for now I just count my blessings. At least he's eating with us again, instead of staying cooped up in his room. At least he's eating at all. 

Right as we finish eating Riku stands, pushing in his chair and setting his plate in the sink. It hasn’t been unusual for him lately to leave early instead of at least waiting for me or Dad to get up, so it’s not until he circles back, standing behind the chair he just vacated and tapping his fingers like he's waiting for something, that he gets our collective attention. 

"Something I can help you with, Riku?" Dad asks. 

"I'm going to go out," Riku says carefully, his full attention on my _very_ skeptical-looking father. "Just for an hour or so… is that okay?" 

"Where are you going?" 

"Just for a walk." 

Dad says nothing, frowning in thought. Riku examines him closely, fingers now wrapping around the top of the seat.

"...One hour," Dad repeats firmly. 

"One hour," Riku confirms, regarding us with a nod before he turns and leaves. 

Dad and I wash the dishes in a slightly tense peace, both hoping for the best to come out of this. Riku really seems to be back on track… I just hope it’s for real. 

When the kitchen’s clean, Dad brings his laptop down and finishes up some stuff from work while I kill some time playing video games. I completely lose myself until Dad kicks me off so he can have the TV for a while, and it doesn't really strike either or us for a while that the house is a person short long after it’s supposed to be. 

When Riku comes back, it's eleven at night. Four hours later.

At this point, all I can really do is sigh and shake my head, praying he wasn't up to anything bad in that time as I listen in on him and Dad arguing in the next room. I did _not_ miss this, worrying and trying to stay as neutral as I can... 

"I'm sorry," I catch from Riku. "I lost track of time and I missed the last bus. It won't happen again."

"Riku, I gave you an hour," Dad replies. "You shouldn't have gone so far that you risked not coming back on time. There was no reason for you to get on the bus in the first place… I don’t know what you were thinking." There's a lull. Or maybe they just lower their voices. Then, "You can't do this anymore." 

"I said I'm sorry,” is Riku’s muffled reply. “I don't know what else to do. I wasn't... I was just walking. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I’ll be more careful." 

"Your curfew is nine." 

"...What?" 

"Ever since you walked through this door, I’ve let you get away with pretty much everything. I knew this transition would be hard on you and that you likely wouldn’t adjust well to firm ground rules right away, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. In that time, you've shown me that you need stricter rules. This isn't the first time you've proved yourself to be untrustworthy and irresponsible. This ends here, Riku." 

"I wasn't doing anything wrong," he says again, sounding tense now. “Whatever you think I was doing, you’re wrong." 

"That's not the point. We made an agreement. What you did was reckless. You could have been hurt, and you _know_ there’s nothing I could have done if you’d gotten yourself into trouble." 

Riku’s quiet for a long time. I wonder if it’s over.

"You know what? _Fuck_ you." 

I pull my ear away from the wall, feeling a little stunned and, stupidly, hurt. I’ve _never_ heard Riku speak to an adult that way. Especially not my dad. Swallowing hard, I reach for the doorknob, unsure what my plan of attack is going to be, who I should comfort and how much I should let on to knowing.

...Riku first. I decide it when I’m halfway down the hall, motivated partly by the curiosity of him angrily stomping down the stairs. Dad’s fine, and he’s just going to ask me not to get involved anyway.

Between his longer legs and faster gait, Riku beats me downstairs and has already shut the door to his room by the time I make it across the house. I stand in front of the door for a long time, debating the merits of knocking, but finally I opt to get it over with now. If I turn tail and just go back upstairs, I’m going to be stuck wondering for the rest of the night.

Riku answers at the second knock, throwing the door open with prejudice. Guess I didn’t miss him by too much, then. He looks ready to yell before he sees me, anger melting into surprise (“ _Sora_?”), then into his usual stoicism as he leans against the door frame with crossed arms.

“So, are you here to interrogate me, too, or…” 

“No way!” I chirp, cranking up the chipperness as he steps aside to let me in. “I mean, I’m happy to listen if you want to talk about stuff, but I just came to hang out. You know, if you want to.”

"Sure, I can stay up for a few minutes. I was just going to bed.” He says it just casually enough that I feel comfortable taking a seat on the foot of his bed as he yanks the covers down, sending a pillow flying. From there he crosses to a pair of pajamas tossed over the back of a chair, slipping into them as I chatter about nothing. I wait until he’s settled into something like mellowness, settled cross-legged on the floor in front of me, before striking him with a pointed question, masked under a veil of good humor.

“How was your walk?” 

He stills a little, subsequent smile all pinched. “Ask your dad.”

Well, there goes that thread of the conversation. Asking more questions is going to get me nowhere, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “Hey, sorry about how that turned out. With your curfew and everything.”

He shoots up like a rocket, head snapping up to me, standing in one quick motion from his place on the floor. 

" _What_ did you say?" 

I blush crimson. I don't know why. 

"...I overheard some stuff." 

“Get out,” he barks.

“Huh?!” I sputter, standing.

“Get out!” He follows me as I gravitate to the door, feet hitting the floor heavily so I know he’s on my tail even when I don’t look back. “Get out, _get out_!”

His bedroom door slams behind me.

I walk upstairs.

Jeez.

*

At school the next day I'm tired and sluggish. I must've woken up every hour last night, tossing and turning and agonizing about my not-fight with Riku, about what’s going to happen with us. I try to be present in class, but my mind wanders. I’m not looking forward to Health--I haven’t seen him since he snapped at me last night, so I have no idea where we stand right now. I just need the rest of today to finish up smoothly, and I’ll be fine.

But life doesn’t really work out that way. Ever. Does it?

I'm talking to Roxas in the hall after our shared Economics class, half-asleep against my locker when someone starts _shrieking_ and holy _shit_ does that wake me up. We _both_ jump, swearing, and I find that I’ve grabbed Roxas's arm automatically in my second of panic. I vaguely recognize the guy, yelling at someone just behind a locker or something. I've seen him making out with his boyfriend a thousand times around campus. 

Well, I guess they're breaking up. 

Very, very publicly. And loudly. 

After all of his yelling I can hear the other guy start, and they're really going at it for a few minutes. I'm surprised no administrators are here yet, because this is gonna get ugly--fast. 

I have my second heart attack of the day--or, the last five seconds--when I feel someone take my free arm. I didn’t even know someone was standing _next_ to me. 

"Nothing like a little performance art to liven up a boring day," comes a voice a little too close in my ear to be comfortable. I'd recognize that femme, smug lilt to the offending voice anywhere, though. We have Economics together. I'm not super friendly with him, but I know him the casual way that all the gay kids at this school seem to know each other. 

"Joshua, right?" I ask, freeing my arm and taking him in. He looks immaculate, as always. Ruffled in that intentional-but-not-trying-too-hard way, the way Riku looks in the mornings and just makes me look like a slob. 

He smiles. 

"What do you say the two of us take a quick stroll before second period starts?" 

"Err... okay." 

I already don't know what's going on with today, but… new friend? 

Yay?

*

Health is as quiet and awkward as I expected, but Riku didn’t seem to be mad at me. A good sign. Probably. Maybe. 

I’m tired by the time I get home, and a little slower to finish my homework than usual. It's a little after eight when I go up to take a shower, the promise of hot water pounding against all my sore spots the only thing that’s really keeping me going at this point. 

I head into the bathroom, strip down, turn on the water and... great. I forgot that I finished the last bar of soap the last time I showered. Bet Riku has a spare... all the way downstairs, though. Ugh, that’s annoying.

I shut off the water and throw my jeans back on, scurrying downstairs, not breaking my stride until I'm in the unoccupied guest bathroom. In the back of my mind, I realize that Riku _should_ be home from the library any moment. Whether he actually shows up before his newly-enforced curfew is anyone’s guess. 

Shaking the thought off, I crouch until eye-level with the small cabinet under the sink and give the door a tug. Bingo! So glad I won’t have to make an unanticipated drug store trip. Riku’s cabinet is full of spare goodies: soaps and shampoos, toothpastes, bottles of mouthwash. 

Actually, I think I’m gonna grab one of those, too. Riku doesn’t really need wintergreen, peppermint _and_ cinnamon. Grabbing the peppermint, I rise to my feet and take a swig, intending to weather through the burn and swish it around until I get back into my own bathroom. One drop hits my tongue, though, and I’m recoiling, the burn just as intense but unfamiliar. My first instinct is to check the expiration date--can mouthwash turn?--but when I find that it’s good for another few _years_ the pieces all click into place. 

I spit the liquid into the sink, rinsing my mouth with tap water. Heart falling, I take a whiff and--yeah. Just as I thought, it doesn’t smell like anything. Vodka. It’s vodka. Riku’s still drinking, and now he’s brought his habit into the house. 

I want it to be a consolation that I didn’t find drugs, but it just makes me think of Mom. 

When I tell Dad on my way back upstairs, soap in hand, he looks weary. That’s the worst part.

Riku comes home at nine o’clock on the dot. Unwilling to watch them fight anymore, I take my long overdue shower upstairs.

* 

The following day is tense. Dad and I leave at around seven in the evening to get take-out, just the two of us, and that’s when I get the highlights: after Riku got home, Dad had him surrender the other two bottles of mouthwash to find that they were also full of alcohol, and Riku flat-out refused to tell him where he got it from. Now we can’t buy mouthwash anymore. Then Dad had Riku turn the whole room inside out so he could inspect every last corner for any sign of drugs. Riku was _mad_ , but what else is new. 

So Riku’s not allowed to go out anymore. Not after school. Not on weekends. This is gonna mess with him big time, but neither of us know what else we can do.

"You gonna be okay, Sora?" Dad asks me after I’ve fallen silent. 

"Yeah... just worried is all." 

"You and me both." 

I sigh, the warm bag of food sitting in my lap, letting my head loll back and watch the lit street lamps pass us by. Riku said he wasn't hungry, but we ordered him food anyway. Maybe if we get him something he'll at least feel obligated to eat, since I've started to notice that at meals he does a lot of cutting up his food but not very much actual eating.

When we get back, Riku takes his bag and starts for his room; Dad lets him eat alone on the condition that he leaves his door open, one that Riku concedes to with an angry “ _fine”._

So, we’re back here again. It was a good month, two months. Off and on.

What a mess. 

*

“Hey,” I break our two-day silence after dinner one night, hanging around while Riku does dishes. It’s one of a myriad of chores Dad’s given him to keep him busy in the hopes that he won’t find something _worse_ to occupy his time.

He says nothing. Silent treatment, really?

“Hey,” I repeat, louder. “Hey! _Hey!_ ”

He shuts off the faucet by violently slapping his palm against the lever. He glares over at me, mouth in a thin line, the look in his eyes angry and challenging; almost feral.

“Need any help?” I ask. The words come out before I even realize I had a game plan, but _maybe_ if he’s blaming me for his grounding, he’ll see this as my olive branch. “I’m sure another set of hands will make this go a lot faster!” I’m rising from my seat before he can respond, smiling all the way to the kitchen. He hunches over a little when I approach him, his shoulders pulled in all tight, like he wants to pull away from me. I’m tempted to reach out and put my hand on his shoulder, but I know better than to touch him when he’s like this. “C’mon, I kind of put you in this situation, didn’t I?” I tease lightly instead. 

“...Yes,” Riku says slowly, his first words to me in a good 48 hours. “You did.”

My face falls. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, or why it hurts so much. I mean, I did kind of… walk right into it.

“Riku…”

“I don’t care.” He dismisses me with three words, jabbing his elbow into my chest while he moves to slide a plate into the drying rack. I give him a wide berth, just trying to calculate what, if anything, I can do to make him take the blame off me. Or just to _like_ me again.

“I know you’re mad at me--”

“I don’t care.”

“I was scared--”

“I don’t care.”

I let that stop me, but only for a moment.

“I’m just trying to take care of you--”

“I _don’t care_.”

“--the way you’ve _always_ taken care of me--”

“ _Sora_!” Finally he whirls around, staring me down, both of us holding our ground. “You need to leave.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I’m already trying not to hurt you,” he says. “Even though that’s all I wanna do.”

I stay rooted to my spot, stunned, as Riku turns back around, soaking a dish and slamming it so hard into the rack that it cracks.

I don’t know when I finally leave for my room. I just know that when I go, I hear the shattering of a plate as it smashes deliberately against the ground, shards of porcelain scattered where I stood only moments ago. 

*

“Hey,” Riku’s the one to greet me next, later in the night. He knocks on my bedroom door so gently I assume it’s Dad at first, but when it’s his face that peeks in, I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I would have let him in if I realized.

For two hours I’ve been trying to study, Riku’s latest words to me burning a hole through my skull: _I’m trying not to hurt you. It’s all I want to do._ What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

“Hey,” I choke, not wanting him to come off with the impression that I’m ignoring him.

He sweeps me into his arms and I’m sobbing into his chest, each heaving breath feeling like it might be my last.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Riku asks softly.

“Please,” I beg.

Like a good boyfriend, like _my_ boyfriend, he wipes my tears away and kisses me, murmuring apologies and little words of comfort as we crawl into bed.

I fall into a troubled half-sleep, too warm as Riku’s little spoon. I don’t feel endangered being so close to him, but I don’t feel totally safe with him anymore, either, the way I used to. Like I can fall and he’ll catch me. Maybe that was naive of me to think.

Yeah, probably naive.

But maybe if this is what danger feels like, Riku’s arms around my shoulders, his long, even breaths hitting the side of my face, maybe dangerous can be okay too.

*

I wake up at 11:30, and again at 12. Kind of mad both times.

I shouldn’t have to accept not feeling safe all the time with him. I shouldn’t have to accept wild mood swings and drug abuse. I deserve security. I deserve happiness. Everyone does.

*

The next time I rouse it’s just after one; the hall light wakes me, hitting my eyes as Riku slips out the door.

*

3 AM. Riku’s back in bed, but I don’t know how long he’s been here for. Maybe he woke me coming back in, or maybe I’m just… up. 

“Riku?” I croak, groggy and a little dizzy from the lack of rest. I don’t wait for a response before I go to switch on the nearest lamp, but it comes in the form of a sleepy hum seconds before light fills the room. I don’t think either of us are going to get any real amount sleep tonight, and I’m super restless. Inside me there’s a vague feeling of needing to get up and _go_ , but go where? And why?

I look down at Riku as he throws his arm over his eyes, slow to react. I feel like I have a good idea of what he was doing while he was out of bed… but instead of letting Dad in on my suspicions in the morning, I decide to broach this head-on. I hope I’m wrong. I would _love_ to be wrong. “Are you high right now?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he responds immediately, almost stepping on the end of my sentence. 

“How? Dad looked everywhere and he didn’t find anything.”

“Not everywhere,” Riku sighs. “I didn’t have a lot, and I stuck it in my sock when I realized. Don’t tell your dad. Please.”

Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I can keep this _one_ thing between us and that will do… something. I don’t know. 

“I… might tell him,” I confess.

“Tell him what?” Riku asks, like our conversation just started two seconds ago. I’m not even gonna press it.

“Hey, Riku? ...Riku?” 

A second glance down shows me he’s sleeping. I can’t do anything now, so I shut off the light and try to squeeze in the three hours I have left before the alarm goes off.

*

Aaaaand it’s five. Riku’s up, but this is his normal hour so that’s not too weird. Or, it _was_ his normal hour at one point. He’s pulling at a hangnail on his middle finger, propped up like he’s been awake for a while. 

“You’re up again,” he observes. “Everything okay?” No. Of course not. Things are falling apart, and I’m terrified for the person who means the most to me every second of every day. Last night, he threatened me. This morning, he owned up to sneaking drugs and it made me realize that I was dumb enough to seriously entertain the idea that he’d moved on from whatever he was doing during the summer. He was _high_ in front of me. It’s like he doesn’t even care anymore.

And being next to Riku at night used to make me sleep like a baby. Tonight I only managed a few hours at a time uninterrupted. That stings more than I want to admit. “Hm. Okay.”

“I’m so tired,” I mumble belatedly. As best as I can, I run through my schedule for the day. No tests, no quizzes… “I might ask to call out sick.”

“Oh,” Riku slides next to me, his interest piqued. “Let’s ditch.” He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, which all but forces a smile out of me. Without even thinking, I grab his shirt and pull him over me, capturing his bottom lip and giving him a gentle nip. He jerks back, but only for a second. Reflex, probably. Poor guy. He breathes an apology into my mouth as he kisses me, one that I accept instantly via the opening of my lips and the brush of our tongues.

He throws a leg over my hip, sliding fully on top of me as I run my hands up and down his back, watching the fabric of his shirt follow my movements, revealing pale skin between bouts covered by soft cotton.

“S’been a while,” Riku mutters, laughing breathily when I attack his neck, sinking my teeth into him _just_ enough that we both know it’ll leave a little mark for a day or two. When I pull back his face is a little scrunched--I think he isn’t ever _super_ into the way it feels at the time, but I’ve caught him affectionately running his fingers over the marks I leave on him enough times to know that the end result is worth it for him.

“Mm, it has. You should sleep with me more.” I don’t know why I say it--it just pops out, feeling right in the moment.

“Are you asking me to move back in?” Riku asks, then shivers when I run my tongue over the love bite on his neck.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

He stops, looking down at me with slightly wide eyes. Surprised. That makes two of us.

“Really?”

I give him a firm nod. “Yeah. Come back.”

He captures me in a deep kiss, clammy hands cupping my face. Wow, I wasn’t expecting _this_. I guess he really wanted this… I had no idea. Literally. He always seems so eager to be alone, I kinda thought this new arrangement would be mutually beneficial. But really, we just miss each other. 

Feeling brave and _hungry_ as hell, I slide my hands down to his ass, kneading and squeezing. Encouraged by my boldness, Riku bucks; a gasp tears from my throat, sudden electricity shooting through my veins. Oh, that was _good_.

“Did you like that?” he asks, voice low in my ear before he turns his attention to the edge of my jaw, kissing me there. He looks down at me with this gleam in his eye, all mischievous and fun. The Riku I love.

“Again,” I command, my grip on him only getting tighter. He chuckles, doing what I ask for _once_ , until we’re all sweaty and worked up. Our pajamas discarded a few minutes ago, there’s so little keeping us from taking this a little farther… 

“Let’s do it?” Riku says. My heart leaps into my throat. He doesn’t mean… he can’t…

“...All the way?” I ask. He nods.

All the way! Wow, okay. I wasn’t actually expecting that. Like, at all. So we start yanking off the last of our clothes, and being _close_ to him like this is every bit as amazing as I remember. 

I find myself hesitating to touch him more intimately, but… if we’re gonna have sex in like, a few minutes, I need to get over it. It’s just… this is really sudden, and not really how I imagined things. To be fair, I’ve come up with probably about a thousand scenarios, but they’ve never involved… any of the weird stuff going on with us right now. And we’ve never really talked about how this is gonna work. Like, who wants to top. And condoms and stuff. We probably need those. Or, I mean, I guess whoever ends up topping can pull out?

...Yeah, that works.

I pull Riku into a kiss, comfort increasing with every second. _This_ is familiar. And safe. And good. And all that. 

Riku shifts, pushing his weight onto one side, when I notice the ugly bruise on his arm. I don’t need to know anything about drugs to know that’s a puncture wound. Probably from earlier this morning. 

Wow, that seems so long ago, but it’s only been a few hours.

“Your arm--”

Riku glances down, spotting it right away. 

“Oh, right.” At least he has the sense to look bashful, even if it’s only for a moment. “Well, that can’t be helped. Do you want me to… put my shirt back on or something? Is it going to bother you?” I shake my head.

When we return to kissing, I realize this isn’t going to be very romantic--not with our relationship in this state. I can’t decide if that bothers me or not. I just want him, more than ever. Like maybe if we do this, it’ll wipe drinking and drugs out of his mind.

Maybe we just need to really band together to beat this thing. I ignore the little nagging feeling at the back of my head, the one that tells me that love isn’t always enough to overpower addiction. I hope Riku’s not addicted. I hope he isn’t in over his head... but I know how these things go.

Ready to take this further, I take his erection in my hand, intending to get him fully hard--I’m pretty close myself, shouldn’t take much--

The shift from "Sora... mm, Sora..." to "mm, oh, wait, Sora, stop--" comes so fast it's almost dizzying. 

I take my hands off him at "wait", confirming my intention to leave him alone at “stop.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask. Slowly, he nods.

“Sorry, I just. I’m not ready.”

I let out a breath, relieved. Disappointed. It’s weird, feeling both so intensely at once. 

“That’s fine,” I tell him, grabbing my clothes from where they ended up, drooping half-off the bed. Shower. I really need a shower. “Thanks for telling me, okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he repeats.

I just tell him it’s fine and try to mean it.

Boy. What a night.

*

Predictably, the rest of the morning is a little awkward. Riku asks if I still want him to stay in my room; I tell him yes. I ask him not to do drugs in the house, knowing that his time out of the house has become more and more limited and hoping this might curtail his usage; he’s evasive. He asks me why I haven’t been coming to him about the drug stuff, instead of going to Dad first, and I don’t have an answer. But we don’t fight, and that’s something.

"Let's just miss our stop," I say as we board the bus, wondering if Riku will pick up on my gentle tease, playing off on his comment about ditching earlier. "Wait a while for everyone to leave, then go get some coffee." 

"Okay," he replies, smiling as he plays along. We finish out the ride in silence, both of us tired but not exhausted, I don’t think, in our own thoughts or watching the people around us. When the time comes, I jump out of my seat, ready to exit at our stop. I notice Riku isn’t following as I take a step forward, blocking a man behind me who shoves past a little harder than needed. 

"Riku?" I call.

"What?" 

"Come on! We're going to be late." 

His face drops a little. 

"Oh. Right." 

...Oh. I wonder if he thought I was being serious about the whole coffee thing. I feel a pang of guilt, or something, and don’t even know why. 

We need to start doing more stuff together again. This separation hasn’t been good on either of us.

*

We last a good two weeks before Riku’s rooming downstairs again, and I kind of feel like that’s because it’s easier for him to sneak out at night if he’s already close to the door, if he doesn’t have the risk of waking me and walking past Dad’s room. I don’t have any proof to back it up, it’s just a paranoid thought I can’t shake.

Despite how rotten I feel all the time, I know I can’t let on to anyone what’s going on.

So I hang out with my friends, do homework, practice driving… all the usual teenage stuff. I think everything is going really well for a while, all things considered! I feel good as I can, and I’m getting good grades still, and every day I get closer to these people I like so much. 

For a while, I even think that things are fine. Really.

Then I’m studying at Roxas’ place and starting to get tired, and Roxas asks how I’m doing… and I burst into tears. Just for no reason. I go from totally fine to complete mess in a span of a second. Next to me on his bed, Roxas goes totally stiff, eyes wide and searching, like he wants to call for reinforcements. 

“I, um. Sorry.” He holds his hands out, unsure whether he should touch me or not. 

“No, no,” I argue, mortified. “ _I’m_ sorry--I don’t know--” My need to get air into my lungs outweighs the importance of my frantic explanation, and I find myself gasping, choking. Wordlessly, Roxas hands me a cup of stale, overnight water from his dresser. I don’t even care. I drink down my emerging bout of hiccups, very slowly coming back to myself.

Wow, I’m really, really not okay.

“What was _that_?” Roxas asked, blonde eyebrows deeply furrowed. He keeps his distance like I’m gonna explode, but I’d probably be doing the same if he just started _crying_ out of nowhere. Ugh, what is _wrong_ with me… “Uh, are you okay?” I nod. Then I shake my head. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head. Then I nod.

Fuck it. I can’t keep all these _secrets_ anymore. 

“Riku’s on heroin,” I blurt out, wiping my face on my sleeve. Suddenly it strikes me hard. The reality of the situation. I’ve been living it, but it’s been surreal, like a bad dream I’ll wake up from. But this is _real._

Roxas just stares at me, mouth open, but whatever his first thought is, it doesn’t come out. 

“...Shit,” he says. Yeah, that about sums it up. “That… that’s bad. I’m sorry. Are you… how are you handling it? Is he going to rehab?” I shake my head.

“We can’t.”

“Why not? Heroin is really hard to kick, it sounds like he needs help. If you know about it now, you’ve gotta do something _now_.” The passion in his voice throws me off a little, and I’m desperate to defend Dad, and myself, but I can’t. Not without…

Fuck it.

“We can’t, because you need to be a legal guardian in order to do that. Dad doesn’t have custody of him.”

“Wait…” Roxas says, connecting the dots, probably. “I thought your dad like, adopted him or whatever. After his parents died.” I stare down at the ground, shamefaced. I hate lying. I hate that I had to tell Kairi that story, and I hate that I had to tell it to Roxas, too, the first time he ever came over to our house.

“Riku’s parents are alive. He’s a runaway. My dad took him in because I asked.”

“Holy shit,” he responds loudly.

“His parents don’t know where he is. He hasn’t spoken to them in like, years.”

“Holy _shit._ Why?” Catching himself, Roxas shakes his head, closing his textbook and setting it aside. “None of my business. Nevermind. So that stuff about you guys being friends when you were little kids?” I shake my head.

“I met him for the first time two years ago.”

“Wait... how?”

“Because I was a runaway, too.” I swallow past a massive lump in my throat, painfully aware of the stunned look on his face. “My mom was abusive. Dad wasn’t around, so I went to go find him last year. The fact that I actually did and that he let us both live with him was just… pure dumb luck.”

“You’re… you’re really not shitting me, huh?” Roxas replies, letting out a sigh. “I would never have guessed. I’m sorry… about Riku, and your mom, too.”

“S’okay,” I lie, sniffling. The room is quiet for a long time, except for the sounds of traffic outside and my unending bouts sniffing and shuddering. Roxas’ eyes are darting across the room, like he’s thinking, calculating.

“Hey,” Roxas says finally. “I need you to know that if there’s a point where you need to say ‘fuck it’ and run, do it. I know you. I know you’ll want to help Riku, but don’t let this take over your life. It’s going to hurt, but you might have to let him go.”

I know that already. And I feel like I’m inching toward halfway there. But I _can’t_. I could never let him go. Not like this.

“Riku used to be….” I start, trying to even find the words. Roxas is quiet, waiting. Finally he puts a hand on my shoulder, his hand warm through the fabric of my T-shirt. “When things are good, Riku’s the _best_ person to be around.My first night out, I ran into gang territory and I was beaten really bad. Riku stepped in and got them away from me, then he used the last of his first aid kit to patch me up. We spent the next few months just… figuring out how to trust each other. He took care of me all the time, even before he knew if he liked me or not, I think. He gave me tips about how to stay safe, and hydrated, all of that. He was my first crush… I didn’t even know I was gay before we met. When we started bonding, it was… magic.” I flush a little, suddenly aware of my audience. But it’s the truth, so I shouldn’t be ashamed. “I wanted him _so_ bad, and then I had him. Losing him would be…”

“Drugs can change people,” Roxas says firmly. “The Riku you’ve known might be gone.” I shake my head, unable to believe it. He isn’t. I know he’s not. 

“This year has been really hard,” I reply. Justifying. Always justifying his shittiness. “On both of us. Adjusting to a new place and everything… I don’t think he knows how to, like. Live a normal life. At the beginning of the year…” I stop myself there, catching myself about to spill about Riku’s intense depression, the medications, the failed attempt at getting him into therapy. That’s private.

“Loving him isn’t going to be enough. You know that, right? I’m not saying this to hurt you. He has to want to quit. He has to _really_ want it.” Roxas speaks with such finality… I wonder who it was, for him. Who in his life got mixed up in the wrong stuff and left him alone.

I shake my head.

“I wish he would just see what this is doing to me and realize it isn’t worth it. I think I offer him a lot. We get each other _so_ much. Or at least, I thought we did.”

“His priorities are going to be skewed now,” Roxas says. “It’s not about anything you’re doing… addiction is like that.”

“That’s why I need to help him!” I burst out, standing. Roxas just sighs.

“There are other fish in the sea, you know.”

“There’s no one like Riku. No one will ever love me like him.”

“That’s not true.”

“Maybe no one else will ever love me.”

“Sora…”

“No--hear me out. Loving me didn’t stop my dad from leaving when I was eight. And it didn’t stop my mom from drinking, and hitting me, and telling me how… how _useless_ I am at everything, and it didn’t stop almost all my friends from ditching me the second they thought I might be different… and none of my mom’s boyfriends ever wanted anything to do with me--”

“Sora, _breathe_. It’s not you, okay? It sounds like your mom was an addict, too. Addition makes turns people into _fucking_ monsters, and that’s _not your problem._ I can’t really say anything about what went on with your dad, but he’s here for you now, right?” I nod. “My mom walked out when I was barely out of diapers and never looked back. I can’t really say what I’d think if she suddenly came back, or--whatever. But you’re together now. Don’t lose sight of how it feels to have a parent that actually gives a shit, because it doesn’t sound like your mom really _can_.” He takes a deep breath, emotionally spent. Me too. “And fuck your classmates, or whatever. Bullies suck. They just find people to kick while they’re already down, and none of it means anything.”

So deep in my pit of wallowing, I barely absorb what he’s said.

“Sora, you’re popular for a reason. If things with you and Riku go belly-up, you’re not gonna have a problem finding dates. You know that, right?”

“Wha-- _popular_? What are you talking about?”

He seems exasperated. “Sora! I can’t walk down the hall with you without getting stopped like, a million times just so people can say hi to you. No matter what went down when you were a kid, that’s all turned around. You’re a good person. People like you. Own it.”

I sniff loudly, startling us both. 

I’m lucky to have him. And all my other friends, too. Things really _are_ better… I can’t let what Riku’s going through impact me so much all the time. I’m still not just giving up on him, but… maybe I just need to let myself feel what I feel, too. I think I need to cry more. And let myself admit to being sad. People will be there for me, if I really let them. 

“Thank you,” I tell him, and can only hope he knows how much I mean it. 

“Yeah, anytime.” Roxas glances out the window, his tentative smile dropping a little. “Hey, you might want to get going. It’s going to get dark soon, and this isn’t a great part of town.” He says it with the same amount of self-conscious deprecation that I’m all too familiar with. “And it’s probably easier to study in a house that doesn’t creak like it’s gonna fall down every two seconds.”

I nod, collecting my things, thinking for a second that I’ll just let it be. But I can’t.

“Hey, Roxas,” I say as we spill out of the room, traipsing across worn carpet on our way to the door. “I grew up in, like. Poverty. My mom and I didn’t have _anything_ since she could barely work, and the jobs she could get didn’t pay much. Having money is new to me.” I leave him still looking a little uncomfortable, but I hope it helps him to know that he has nothing to be ashamed of. “Anyway, just thought you should know. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Hey, Sora!” I stop halfway down his stoop, turning to face him.

“Yeah?”

“No matter what happens, I’m here.”

I nod, finding comfort in his honesty. And mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, anyone still here?? don't be afraid to drop a comment ;)


	30. Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter at the nightclub shakes Riku's perceptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive warning on this chapter for sexual assault, the F slur, and mentions/discussions of older men generally being predatory.

The club feels like home. Going back, even after my frustrating encounter with Sir and his awful ex-fiancee, is a creature comfort. I never thought I could find fulfillment in a place so dingy, so dirty, full of so many damn _people_ , but this is all I ever want anymore. Heroin and cocaine and ecstacy and this.

Sir missed me. Maybe a little too much. We sit at the bar together as I order drinks and drinks and drinks on his dime, but I'm not too drunk to realize how aggressive he's being tonight. Honestly, it feels like nothing’s hitting me right. Next time I see Axel, I’m going to see if he has anything strong on him, because if I’m not loving life after four whiskey sours I don’t know what to say. And if my tolerance level is increasing already, that’s not going to be good on anyone’s wallet. I wish I’d gotten drunk before I left… fucking _Sora_. I can’t believe he found my stash.

If I weren’t so pissed about how it feels to be on lockdown 24/7, I’d almost be impressed. Maybe.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” Sir observes, voice silky smooth, the sound caressing my ears. He pulls me onto the floor and I feel limp, boneless. Okay, it’s starting to hit me now: that wobbly, surreal feeling.

When he gets me against the wall he gropes and grinds against me so hard it's physically uncomfortable. So unlike his usual teasing, little touches... this isn't our coy, tongue-in-cheek game, and I'm not a completely willing participant. This whole moment is painful, but for some reason I can't bring myself to end it. Probably because I'm dizzy and can hardly think straight, and I'm afraid that if this stops, if I'm not aware of myself, that I'll throw up or black out or fall over. 

I’m worse off than I thought.

Halfway through our second song together, Sir asks me, again, to come home with him. This is becoming an almost nightly thing, and even in a heightened mood I'm tired of it. I wish he would ask someone else and let that be the end of it.

I refuse, again, and that's when something in his face changes--he's unrecognizable--and for the first time ever since we've known each other, he grabs me. Fingers locked around my wrist, he drags me across the club, and I'm so blindsided and so weak that all I can do is follow him. 

"Where are we going?" My voice is quiet, words slurred. He doesn't turn to look at me. "Where are you taking me?" I ask, alarmed for the first time. This is sending off so many warning bells, it almost sobers me but I’m still so lightheaded...

He pries open the emergency exit, kicking it closed with his heel. The sudden burst of cool, fresh air chills me to the bone, the warmth from my buzz entirely gone, leaving me tired and confused. 

The alley is dark; a street lamp towers over us, but only one dim bulb flickers to life. In the orange glow he looks menacing, like some sort of dark creature. 

"Why?" I ask again, scrambling to my feet as best as I can. 

That's his invitation to grab my shoulders and slam me into the wall. 

Everything that wasn't spinning before is spinning now. I think I'm going to hurl. 

"Mister--" Short nails dig into my shoulders as he pushes me down, forcing me into an awkward sitting position, kissing me, reaching for his fly. I squirm, trying desperately to get away, to fight him off, but I can hardly see straight--half the time I reach out, I miss-- "Stop, what are you--" 

The smack to my face couldn't have been more shocking. I stare up at him, wide-eyed and stunned and hurt and _betrayed_. Again. 

"Shut that smart mouth," he growls into my ear, pushing me back against the wall when I begin to tilt forward. “How old are you?”

“S-seventeen,” I stutter. He pushes me back. 

“ _How old are you_?”

I don’t know what he wants.

“Seventeen!” I shout.

“Don’t lie to me, you little sneak. You’re not seventeen. You sure as _hell_ do not pass for a virgin. How _old are you_?”

I can’t speak, can barely breathe, throat closing and vision blurring.

His hand closes over my chin, fingers jabbed into my jaw. This hurts. Everything. His anger, the feel of him yanking my hair, forcing me to look up into cold eyes. Only a month ago he called me worldly. Striking.

Tonight he calls me _faggot_ , he calls me frigid, a liar, he calls me _whore_. He asks me when I open my legs, if he hasn’t reached my starting price yet. He asks if this is how I get off, by teasing and never following through, he accuses me of cowardice, he tells me that if he fucked me right now, it would be cold inside of me.

I don’t… I don’t understand… I don’t understand what he thought this was, I was just having _fun_ , I didn’t mean for it to go this far...

I'm on the floor again, and he kisses me, and a spark of something that used to be self-preservation lights inside me but dies just as quickly. 

Fuck it. Just let it happen.

I'm so sorry.

I’m sorry, Sora. I'm sorry I don't feel like fighting for myself anymore. I'm so sorry he's going to get more of me than you ever will. 

I close my eyes and sink into myself, waiting and hoping that I faze out, when the door swings open.

“ _Hey._ ”

Axel. 

"Get away from him," he says, voice stripped of his usual hints of irony. My attacker stands, putting himself back together, and the two of them travel out onto the sidewalk. I hear yelling and yelling and yelling things that I can't make out. Axel's angry... what, angry _for_ me? Why? 

Then it's quiet. Eerily quiet, even through the sounds of the music, the talking, from the club are so close. Just one flimsy door away. Axel emerges, looking solemn, and utters only two words: 

"Let's go." 

From there, we begin the walk to Axel's home. Or so I think at first, anyway, until we reach the covered bench next to a bus stop sign that’s been spray painted over and Axel takes a seat. Feeling weak, I join him, collapsing heavily on braided plastic. I have a paper due this week. I don’t know why I think of it now.

"Are you okay?" Axel asks seriously, scowling as he examines the bruises forming on my neck and face. He murmurs all sorts of things I barely pay attention to, from "what the hell were you thinking?" to "why didn't you just smack the shit out of him?" to "I'm going to fucking kill him." 

"I... yeah. I'm--I'll be okay." I don't know how I manage to speak without my voice shaking. I feel outside of myself. This is not the first time I’ve been assaulted in a fucking back alley. God.

We sit in silence until the bus pulls up. My mind is blank. I just don't know what to do anymore. 

"Go home," Axel says. "And take some fucking care of yourself, will you?" 

\

I feel like I've been up for days when I get back to Mr. Hart's house. But it's just minutes after midnight, which means it’s 50/50 if everyone will still be up. It’s been only five hours since I fought with Mr. Hart and Sora and stormed out during dinner. I don’t even feel like that person anymore.

"Welcome back," is how Mr. Hart greets me. “Do you feel like having a conversation like an adult, or do I need to send you to your room like a child, which is what you’ve been acting like for the past several months?” I don't want to hear it. Not tonight. Not when there's doubt in my mind already and I just hurt and hurt and hurt in so many more ways than one. "Riku, I told you that you are _not_ to go out after school.”

"Right," I mutter, forever conceding. 

"Do you know what _time_ it is?" 

"...Yes. I'm sorry." I mean my apology from the bottom of my heart. For the first time, I regret fighting him, I regret storming out, I regret meeting with Axel, I regret ever meeting Axel at all, I regret my first hit of Opium, my first cocktail, my first bump of coke. But I can tell by looking at his face, my words mean nothing. I don't even blame him anymore. How many times have I said those words without a trace of sincerity or repentance? 

“No. You don’t get to cause a scene like the one you caused this evening and just _leave_ whenever you damn well please and offer up an apology like that’s going to fix anything! I don’t _know_ what to do with you anymore, Riku. ”

Why doesn't he see all the bruises on me, why doesn't he take one look at my face to see that what that man did is written all over me? Why doesn't he notice anything? Why doesn't he see just how much is wrong? 

“...I…”

“You don’t get to do whatever you want anymore. That’s not how the adult world works, you do understand that, don’t you? Riku, none of us can _help_ you if you don’t listen or even _try_ to meet us halfway.” I hear him and I don’t hear him at the same time. I want to close my eyes. I go away.

"...I'm sorry..." 

"No you aren't. I don’t want this for you, but eventually a day will come where you walk out that door and you won’t be allowed to walk back in. I have my son to think about."

Reality hits me, like cold water dropped over my head. 

“I…” I stop. He doesn’t want to hear it.

I hear Nathan in my ear, right in my ear, he’s drunk and he’s angry, I made him angry: _You’re lucky we kept you. You’re lucky we provide for you. You don’t want us to send you back off to your aunt, do you? Is that what you want?_ Police on the phone. In a tiny holding cell. Sora by my side. _You left on your own, you can come back on your own._

Obligation. I am an obligation. I am a favor. I am a good deed. All of this, of Mr. Hart and Sora and aunts and uncles and grandparents, pretending I was a part of their family, it’s not true. It was never true.

I knew it. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. But God does it rip the breath from my lungs.

I never should have stayed. Not for me, not for Sora.

“I don’t want it to come to that, Riku. Please don’t leave me without any other options.”

He walks away. Just like that.

Feeling ghostlike, unreal, I wander into the bedroom I am staying in, in this house I have no claim to, owned by a man who is a stranger. 

When I reach the toilet I kneel on the floor and let myself be sick. It seems like it'll never end, like I'm just going to keep emptying myself until there's nothing left. 

When it's over, I rinse my mouth and head upstairs for some clean towels so I can take a shower. I need to wash this night off of me. I can still feel it, hands all over me. It makes me want to be sick again.

I notice as I pass on my way to the spare linens that the light is on in Sora’s room, a slit of bright white on the carpet underneath the door, noting that it’s unusual for Sora to be up so late on a school night. 

A school night. 

Fuck. 

This doesn't feel like my life. 

\

I stand in the hot spray of the shower for what feels like an hour. I think I wash up. I think I wash up about a hundred times, scrubbing my skin pink and raw. No matter what I do, I feel Sir’s hands on me.

I hate myself so, so much. 

I want to tear off my skin, scratch out my veins, scrub my mind of everything that makes me filthy. I want everything that makes me exist come to an end; dying isn’t enough, I want to not exist, I want to never have existed in the first place. I want to be wiped from the memories of everyone who has ever crossed my path and just cease to _be_. No afterlife. Please. That would be too cruel. I just want darkness. I want the calm thrumming of heroin inside of me. I want to not want it.

But I’m here, I’m _here_. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. I have _got_ to clear my head and figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now and where to go.

Because none of _this_ is working.

I don’t know what I’m going to do about Sora and his father, my heart is still pounding, my mind is racing out of control every time I remember _his_ face, _his_ eyes, his hand on my face, holding me still and _if I fucked you right now, it would be cold inside you._ Frigid. Whore.

What makes me what I am and what I am not? What he told me? What I tell me?

Weak. That’s all I think I am, all I know I’ve ever been. Sora is going to be so disappointed when he finds out. If he doesn’t already know.

After I left Darry I promised I would never let myself be abused, never feel helpless again... now what? 

\

Two AM.

If I still had an ounce of control over my life, I would be covered by sky, getting bright, and I would rise and begin to walk. No one would know where I was or that I was alive. No one would depend on me, and I would depend on myself. Nothing would stand in my way; not people, not drugs. It would be me and the food in my backpack and the illusion of possibility.

I should never have stayed here, and my time is running out.

My blood itches.

I feel dirty.

I crawl out of bed, dropping my clothes off me as I go. I need another shower. Hands on me. Frigid. Whore. You’re lucky we provide for you. Lucky. Don’t leave me without other options.

Hot water didn’t make me feel any cleaner, so I try cold this time, shaking and scrubbing and washing my hair again. Again. Again.

When I shut off the water and pick my clothes up off the floor I feel heavy. So heavy. And so tired. Somehow I dry off, and dress, and get back into bed, or start before there’s knocking on my door. I stare at my clock. 4:30. The knocking comes louder. 

I don’t remember the walk to the door. Mr. Hart. His brow is furrowed.

“Riku, were you taking a shower just now?” he sounds honestly puzzled. I nod. I think.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” I have nothing to say to his question. I felt dirty. 

He leads me into the light of the kitchen, close to me suddenly. Too close. “Riku, are you high?” he asks.

“No.” 

He holds eye contact for too, too long. Examining me. He shines a light into my eyes, a flashlight on a keychain, and I blink heavily. Invasive.

“Okay,” he says, believing me only because he could test it for himself. No one ever trusts me. They should. Maybe they shouldn’t.

I turn to leave, but he catches me one more time. “Riku?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about the way I lashed out at you earlier tonight. I shouldn’t have said anything to make you think you aren’t welcome here. I was just scared.” He’s apologizing? To me? That’s never happened, not from the mouth of an adult. I have to recalibrate my entire brain to accommodate this new information. He’s sorry? And he’s…?

“...scared? You’re scared?”

He looks tired. Maybe sad.

“Riku… of course I’m scared. We want you to get better because we care about you and because you deserve to be healthy and happy.” 

Falsehood at best. Lie at worst.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe,” he says.

Liar.

I crawl back into bed after he’s gone upstairs, my head still ringing. Frigid. Whore. Sorry. Scared.

I wonder if Nathan was ever scared. I wonder if I’ll ever stop being scared.

\

I can’t shake last week from my head. After school Monday I sit on the bench at the bus stop, hoping for normalcy. But everything is a little tainted, everything has that ugly hint of _before heroin_ and _after heroin_. I can’t even associate the bus stop by my own high school with a year’s worth of school days, of hanging out with Sora and his friends, because all I can think about is how it was _here_ that Axel found me. Back when _I’ll be at the library until late_ was never a lie. 

"You look down, man," he'd said, and at first I ignored him, expecting something dickish next, something goading, a 'give me a smile, will you?' "But I think I know how I can help you out." 

"You must have me confused for someone else," I said, purposely turning my body away, hoping he’d get the hint and decide not to engage.

"Nah. I know your type." 

I stopped, looked him over for a long time. He wasn't like anyone else I'd seen, especially not at school. I guessed--correctly--that he was in his early twenties, and his skin was pale like mine, his hair bright, flaming red. I must've looked affronted because he grinned too wide, but he started talking again before I could say anything to contradict him. 

"Let me guess... you're mature for your age, maybe you've seen some stuff in your life, and no one gets you. Listen, I get you." His grin softened to a smile, and he gave me a sheet of paper with a phone number. "And I'm here to help." From there he stood, and just like that the bus seemed to appear in front of us. 

It's not like I just went for it the first time he ever said hello. The seduction process was slow, careful, and he had to outright slip me some hash before I think I really realized the extent of what he wanted to do for me. Or take from me. I don’t even know anymore.

I can't believe there was a point when I handed it back, telling him I wasn't interested. And that he shrugged and said it was fine, that his offer was always there but it wasn't a big deal to say no. And that we started talking, usually about nothing, as we waited for the bus on my study nights. And that I started to feel like I had a friend in him. And that I went to his party and came home drunk, drunker than I'd ever been. 

I shiver. Man, I'm freezing and it's not even that cold out. 

It’s six. School let out three hours ago, so I’m already late. I can’t handle the berating I’m going to get, so I’m just going to show up after dinner and hope I can slip into my room and pretend to be asleep before Mr. Hart can lecture my ear off.

...I wonder what Zachary’s up to.

I wait for the next bus, counting on him to be home. 

A sudden gust of anxiousness hits me full force while I'm boarding, and since no one got off at this stop it's so crowded that I have to stand uncomfortably close to the men around me. So I close my eyes and will my mind away, even as my heart beats so loudly that it pounds in my ears. I can't believe what that man wanted to do to me, and I can't believe my own weakness. I can’t believe I thought I held the power in our relationship, in any relationship. Fear and anger are so confusing and messed up inside of me. I wish I couldn't feel. 

Unable to take the crowd, I hurry off the bus two stops early and don't stop running until I reach the familiar row of apartments over by a group of medical buildings. I rush up six flights of stairs and knock on his door too hard. My heart is pounding. I feel like I’m being chased. I can’t take this, I need to be inside, _safe_ , anywhere--now--

Zachary throws the door open, smiling.

"Riku, hey! You’re back!" 

"Let me in," I gasp. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Now." 

He steps aside and guides me to the couch, taking a seat next to me, putting on his concerned face. 

"What happened?" 

"Nothing," I mutter. "Nothing. I just had a bad night, and my head is really bad right now, and I need to be away from everyone." 

"You're shaking." 

I curl up, my head between my knees. I couldn't cry even if I wanted to, but I might be the closest I've gotten in years. Maybe Zachary's presence is the only thing stopping me. Tomorrow I will hate myself for this. Right now, I just need someone. 

"...It was a really bad night." 

"Riku, are those..." I close my eyes. I know what's coming. "You're bruised." I block out his soft touches, the way he gently moves my arms, forcing my body language more open. From there he pushes down the hood of my jacket, revealing the mess left on my neck, my collar bone. "Did someone do something to you?" 

"I'm not going to talk about it," I say, and to that he simply nods. He doesn't speak again except to ask if I'd like some background noise, and for once I think I do. I need to numb out all the nasty thoughts I can't get to leave my sick, crazy head.

"Ah, I love this one!" My head snaps up at the sound of Zachary’s voice, quiet and light, followed by the sound of tinny gunshots through old speakers.

"What?" I ask, so quietly he doesn't hear. Then my eyes are drawn to the television; some cowboy movie, old. Black and white. He must've found a movie station. I watch Zachary doing his homework, then the TV, then Zachary, till it's time for me to go. 

\ 

For the next two weeks I try my hardest to get back into the swing of things--school and homework and being bored and tired and depressed. I'm so resigned that Sora and his dad are now considering me back to what they think is normal and what I think is hopeless. 

Although that means I've now finally reached a tentative peace with Mr. Hart, Sora and I fight on a daily basis. He snarks about my weight and how pale I look in front of Roxas under the guise of being worried and then has the nerve to turn around and act hurt when I give it back to him in full, pointing out that he's still scrawnier than I am. 

It's a Thursday night, and Mr. Hart is working late for the fourth night in a row, and the night is tense. We order pizza and bicker over toppings even though who the fuck cares? So _that_ sucks, and we eat in complete silence, forcing ourselves to just act like we really want to finish our homework so we have an excuse to ignore each other. 

Sora has this really irritating habit of swinging his legs when he's concentrating. I think I used to find it really sweet back when I was so stupidly over the moon for him, but honestly it's really fucking annoying. When I tell him to cut it the fuck out because he's driving me up the wall, he tells me to shove it up my ass, which is charming. 

We finish eating almost at the same time--Sora's been powering down slice after slice while I'm only on my second and just letting my body remember how to digest real food, or something resembling it, anyway. We rise and set our plates in the sink, and he bumps me by mistake so I jab him in the side with my elbow, causing him to yelp. I don't even know what I'm playing at anymore. Was that supposed to be playful? Was I trying to hurt him? 

Sora just snorts in annoyance and pushes past me. 

Whatever. 

I'm starting to head into my room, and Sora into his, when I notice that the idiot's left his notebook on the dining room table. I pick it up and follow him, using it to smack his shoulder for attention. 

The sound of it hitting his skin is loud; it fills the house.

Once, it would have made him laugh. If had remembered my strength, and I hadn’t hit him so hard.

But I think that’s going to bruise real ugly, and he just turns and slaps me, right in the face, without a single word. The notebook spills to the floor, forgotten. 

Sora continues upstairs without even turning around to survey the damage. 

Fuck this. 

\

Unable to bear Sora hating me now, or whatever, I call up Axel. His place isn’t free tonight--he’s more or less loaned it out to Marluxia and Larxene for the night so they can get up to whatever the hell it is that they do--which only gives us one real option if we want an actual, tangible destination.

We go back to the club. 

Axel offers to find us another one to go to, but now it’s a matter of pride. I can’t tuck my tail between my legs and run off somewhere else. This is _my_ space, and some old fucking creep isn’t going to take it away from me.

I find myself looking around constantly, guard up, hackles raised, hating how paranoid I am. I just can't let myself be stupid like that again. I can never afford to be vulnerable ever, ever again. 

This is the first time that Axel doesn't just up and ditch me upon entering, which disorients me further. He says it's because he doesn't want to see me cornered again, but I also can't help but wonder if something else is going on with him. 

"How late you staying out?" Axel asks, nudging me in the side as he turns, suddenly, to two empty seats at the bar. I shrug. 

"Sora and I fought before I left. Pretty sure he was on the phone with his dumb friend Roxas by the time I was on my way out the door. His dad's definitely asleep if he’s even home," I tell him as we hoist ourselves onto the chairs. I don't know why they make these so high up; it's fine now, but I might have issues when I start drinking. Luckily Axel and I are tall. For a moment I get the mental image of Sora having to jump off one of these after one too many, and it's funny and disturbing and a little disgusting all at once. "...As long as I get back before they're up in the morning, I should be fine." 

Axel looks up at me, eyes questioning and a little wide, and it leaves me wondering where I went wrong in those few sentences. 

"...You say Roxas?" he asks finally. 

"I did. Why?" 

"Fuck ‘im." 

I don't think I could have expected anything less. 

"What?" I ask, anticipation mounting. The idea that Axel might have dirt on the kid who’s been taking up all of my boyfriend’s time lately is more than a little welcome. 

"Okay, backstory time..." He pulls a pack of cigarettes from the pocket in his coat and lights up. For a moment he watches his lighter, the flame dancing. "Don't be too quick to judge, but I used to babysit him when we were kids. It lasted a year, maybe two, but I was over at his house a lot. I don't remember how I even got the job. Guess since I was only a preteen I didn't mind working for peanuts, since that's all his family could afford to pay me. I think that was before Roxas's mom split, too. I still remember when she left… Anyway, that’s not how things started, but that’s how we met." Axel takes a drag, shaking his head, not even looking at me. He's gone in some memory. 

"We got really close when he was just about to enter high school and I was just dropping out. That's when I met ol' Marly and got all involved in--" he motions wide around us. "All this shit, and Roxas came along with me. We got really--and I mean _really_ \--wasted one night and... we... did some stuff." He holds a hand up, as if I would say anything, as if I have the right to question his morals. "I didn't fuck him. Even when I was all fucked up, and even though I wanted to, I didn’t." He absently plays with his lighter again. 

"Well, turns out that Roxas can’t tell the difference between sex and messing around. I tried to get him to drop the whole incident, but he wouldn’t. His solution was to stop being friends." He puts his cigarette down long enough to take a long, long sip of beer. "And what he _said_ , was that I'm disgusting and he never wanted to see me again." In one swift movement he slides the lighter in his pocket and takes another long drag. "Then next thing I know, he's in rehab, his family’s left town... either way, he was long gone." He sighs, blowing smoke. "Yeah, I know Roxas." 

"You loved him," I say, questioning. He shrugs as if I simply commented on the weather. 

"He was my best friend," Axel says. "He was my only friend." We're quiet for a really long time. I don't know what to say to that. Even if I were better with people, I don't think I'd know. A part of me pities him. A part of me can’t. "Hell," he says suddenly. "We were never gonna be a love story, but I guess it just goes to show you that no one's really there, huh? But you know that already. Even your little Sorapoo could just up and leave anytime he wanted. How's that for reality?" 

I don't want to respond to that, don't want to even think about it. But I know he's right, I've always known. And I'd rather discuss at length how little I trust Sora than be faced with what Axel hits me with next: "Hey, Riku, looks like your sugar daddy's here. Need me to cover you?" 

"What?" I start, turning my head to where Axel's just begun pointing. I'm ready this time, ready to kick his ass if I need to. I think. 

I follow Axel's finger, squinting when I particularly bright light flashes into my eyes. It takes me a moment to spot him, but there he is, looking human again. 

That man is halfway across the club from us, sitting all by himself. If I had the guts to feel for him, I might. I hesitantly move closer, not exactly sure what I'm going to do. More than anything I want to chew him out and kick his ass for what he did to me. I can't even sleep anymore when I try, and I'm having nightmares again. I had to smoke so much to feel right again and he doesn't even have a clue. Doesn't even care, does he? 

It's that thought that makes me storm over to him, greeting him with a well-earned sock in the arm. If I could stare him down to death, I would. 

He turns his head, quickly at first, then moves a little more slowly when he notices who's just hit him. I wonder if he needed a split-second to adjust to me, Riku-not-Kitten, jeans too loose because they just don't fit anymore, eyes kohl-less. 

He nods grimly, though I haven't said anything. 

"I never would have hurt you," he says levelly. “And I never intended to scare you.” He takes a short sip of his cocktail. “As a side note, you look extraordinary as always, Kitten.” 

No. No fucking way is he playing this off like it was nothing.

“You bruised me,” I point out. “You called me-- you--” I hate myself for tripping over my words in anger and frustration and that small bit of fear that _won’t_ go away. “You never listen when I tell you to stop!” He’s visibly taken aback, but whether that’s real or just for my benefit… I couldn’t guess.

“When have you ever told me to stop?”

My face goes red. I’m bellowing. “People don’t like being dragged places and slammed against a wall!”

“I regret losing control. As I said, I would _not_ have hurt you.” I want to grab his collar, shake him, scream into his face: _but you did!_

"And if Axel hadn't stepped in?" I ask instead.

"I already backed off before he even opened the door. You know that. You saw it." I grind my teeth, the anger subsiding all too soon. I’m just tired. Tonight… I’m just fucking tired. “You’re entitled to your feelings. You can be mad at me. Or I can buy you a drink, and we can leave that incident behind us.”

Frigid.

I look over to Axel, who stares at me intently, then, finally, shrugs. 

I hate myself already. 

I grab the half-finished drink from his hands, smiling coyly when he stares up at me, surprised. I take a sip and answer decisively. 

"How about you get me one of those and I'll think about it." 

He smirks. 

Whore.

\

Sora and I go out for lunch on Saturday. It’s supposed to be nice, I think. A date. I used to like those. _We_ used to like them. Back when we liked each other.

The conversation, when there is any, is stiff and unnatural. We have nothing in common anymore, except for a painful shared history of trauma that no one should have to endure in the first place. That’s not a basis for a relationship, it’s a reminder of things I’m desperate to leave behind. We’re not done eating before Sora gets distracted on his new phone, sending text messages Roxas and Kairi sporadically. We ask for the check before we’re done eating. We don’t do dessert. I’m tired and in a shitty mood, and I just want to shoot up and go to sleep. I am scared of how badly I want to shoot up and go to sleep and ignore the only person who has ever claimed to love me.

We’re on a date and Sora is actively making other plans. We don’t go back to his place together; he’s expected at Kairi’s. 

I guess it makes sense. We don’t touch or kiss anymore. I don’t know the last time he held my hand. We don’t even play video games or watch movies on opposite sides of the couch. We just don’t exist on the same plane of existence anymore. Haven’t for a long time. Frigid.

I think we might be over, and I knew it would end, and I knew it would kill me when it did.

I just didn’t think it would kill me this hard.

\

Trying to take a nap ends up being fruitless. Every time I close my eyes, I hear _hey, I’m going to Kairi’s. You good to take the bus back home, Riku?_ and _Frigid, whore._ and I see the look on Sir’s face when I let him lead me onto the dance floor, mere weeks after he assaulted me. Or whatever that was. 

I can't believe I forgave him. 

I can't believe I forgave him for a five dollar cocktail. 

I can’t believe I fucking destroyed my relationship with Sora.

I just want a second chance. From who, I don't know--don't even care--as long as it could help me get to where and who I'm supposed to be. Because I don't know anymore. 

I never have, but I don’t want it to be this person. An addict. Someone who only feels right drunk or high, someone who hurts the people closest to him, someone who forgives too easily but never forgets. I wish I were a good son, a good boyfriend, a good person. But I’m in so, so deep in this pit, I don’t know if I can ever climb my way out.

There’s only one way to move forward from this point.

I need to get out of here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is, it's mostly uphill from here. And this is def the scummiest Axel I've ever written.


	31. Disunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora goes on an adventure and makes an unexpected discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so long OTL

Riku's been gone for almost two days.

I’ve gotten used to going to bed at night knowing he’s out of the house, but he’s always been back by morning--up until now, at least. 

The first time I wake up and find that he’s not in his room, I try not to worry too much. It sort of fits with his overall pattern lately, after all. The whole ‘I do whatever I want’ thing. But then it’s noon, one, two, and nothing. Dinner comes and goes, and when morning comes around again, he’s nowhere to be found.

Come Monday he doesn’t show up to school and our only lead is Noah, who swears up and down he hasn’t seen Riku in ages, which really leaves me and Dad in a tough spot. Riku's never disappeared for this long before, and I don't know what to think… except that I'm really, really worried. There are so many things that could have happened: he could have been attacked, mugged, even arrested. He could have overdosed or been caught up in a drug deal gone wrong. I just don’t _know_. 

Tuesday night, when we can’t stand waiting any longer, Dad and I search his room for clues. We find Riku’s cell phone on the bed, which explains why we can’t get ahold of him when we try to call. Digging through the bathroom and his bedroom drawers reveal that some of his clothes and all the toiletries are missing. Almost like he… no. Impossible.

Heart in my throat, I bolt into the kitchen and start checking for canned food, finding missing tins of fruit, meat, vegetables. We rarely eat canned food--Dad keeps a few on reserve for nights he comes home late and doesn’t feel like cooking fresh--so it’s pretty telling that we’re completely out. 

All signs point to one answer: Riku ran away. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much despair in my life.

Finding drugs again would have been easier, since we’re so far past the point where we can hope that maybe he’s getting sober. This is monstrous. I can’t imagine anything more selfish, to just up and _leave_ without even a note or a warning… if he misses more school, the administrators might call CPS. Dad could get in huge trouble for taking Riku in, and Riku doesn’t even _care._

Dad left when I was _eight_ without a word and now Riku does the same thing to me for a _second_ time. Even though he hasn’t been acting like it lately, he’s too smart not to realize that this would destroy me from the inside out. The Riku I know would never do anything so thoughtless and horrible. He’s always been rough around the edges, but it never took away from the fact that he was also well-intentioned and doing his best. Not until now.

Those days are over. Roxas was right: this isn’t my Riku anymore. I will love him forever, but it’s done now. 

I have to fight the lump in my throat that threatens to choke me when I let myself realize that I might not ever see him again, the tears that form when I know he might die or be dead already. But I also know that I can’t just sit around passively, pining and mourning. If this is over, it has to be over. No loose ends, nothing left open.

That's why I track him and his _friends_ down.

Following a vague tip from my call with Noah, I pick a night when I know Dad’s gonna be late home from work and head out to a shady part of the city I’ve never been to before. 

I clutch my phone tighter in my pocket as I get off the bus, not sure what I’m going to find. Not even sure what I’m looking for, I just sort of... pick a direction and start walking. 

This is reckless, and so, so dumb: but it's when I spot a dealer hanging back in a little pathway that I realize just how deep I'll have to get myself into this, and how willing I am to do it. For Riku. So I sneak past him, quietly relieved when he glances over and ultimately he pays me no mind. I don't think I'll accidentally start something, I just need to make sure that I don't get caught in the middle of something that's already been started. 

The path I choose isn't a dead end, surprisingly; it leads into a little neighborhood, full of these decrepit shacks that remind me a little bit of the abandoned properties we would sometimes pass when Riku and I were runaways. I wonder if this feels like home to him.

I weave in and out of this weird maze until something catches my eye: it's Riku's faded orange duffel bag, the one that he carried when he was running away. I know it too well to think it could possibly be anything else. That must mean...

Riku’s here! Blood pumping in my ears, I rap an excited rhythm on the door with my knuckles. Come on, come on...

"Who the hell _knocks_? _Come on in_!" 

I hope the owner of the voice yelling at me doesn't think I'm someone else, but here goes.... I open the door and just nudge half of my foot inside, managing a weak little greeting of my own. 

"Um, hi!" I call, popping my head in next.

"Look, it's Roxas!" 

I start at the sound of my best friend’s name. Wait, how do they know Roxas? 

Through the thick haze of smoke in the air, my eyes land on the guy who says it, the same one who told me to come in. He’s lounging on a couch that’s clearly broken, jeans just hanging open like he pulled them on a few minutes ago and forgot about them. His hair is done up in almost a mullet, and he’s strumming on a beat-up old guitar. Unsurprisingly, there’s something weird with his eyes--he’s on something, but I don’t know what. Not the same thing I’ve seen Riku on, I don’t think. When Riku was high in front of me, he seemed mellow. This guy’s frantic.

“Hey, Roxas is back!” he calls again. Removing his fingers from the strings, he reaches back and blindly smacks his hand into the hip of a man with fire-engine-red hair filling a shot glass with some kind of clear alcohol. He stops mid-pour, craning his head to look at me, his green eyes wide. When he determines that I’m most definitely _not_ Roxas, he continues pouring and passes the shot glass to someone I can’t see at this angle.

Damn. I wonder if one of these two is the person Roxas knew who got hooked...

Against my better judgement I take a full step inside, noting what feels like a half a dozen eyes on me. The small living room is full of men, all smoking or drinking, each wearing black like someone died. A few of them have that shock of bright or unusually-colored hair, but no silver to be found. There's no sign of Riku, and I don’t know if I’m relieved about that or not. 

"Hey, I was just wondering if--" I stop, losing my train of thought for a sec as my stare lands on these two guys in the back, playing cards at a tiny table pushed into the corner: one with short-cropped blonde hair, the other wearing an eye patch. They're so odd-looking together, it just takes me by surprise. And suddenly, I'm really aware of the fact that I'm the center of attention. 

"Next round’s yours," one of them says as my silence starts to get awkward. The other laughs, and my face begins to feel warm. I don't know why I'm blushing. I just feel like such an idiot for coming over here. 

What was I thinking? 

I turn to leave when I feel an unwelcome hand on my shoulder, gripping me firmly but not quite enough to hurt, heart racing when he gives me a tug strong enough to pull me into the house. Okay, this is way out of my comfort zone.... _Now_ I'm having some second thoughts.

"What's the rush?" he asks. I glance up at him--and up, and up, and up. This guy is _huge_ , black dreadlocks tied out of his face, violet eyes devouring me as his mouth twists into a smug smile. 

I need to get what I came here for and leave. Now. 

"I was just looking for someone but it looks like he's not here,” I state, too loud and every bit as awkward as I feel. “So now I'm going. Sorry to bug you guys." 

"Then stay for a while," says Dreadlocks, his grip tightening. 

"Nah, that's all right!" I squeak. 

"Have a drink!" chips in someone from the back. Gee, thanks. 

Okay, time to wiggle my way out of this one.

"I don't drink! Anyway, nice uh, seeing you guys or something. But my dad is waiting for me at home, he'll be really worried if I don't show. Um, if you see a guy named Riku, tell him his boyfriend is looking for him--" 

Eyepatch leans over to his blond companion, I see him mouth, “who?”, and hope I haven’t just wasted my evening _and_ made myself look like an idiot at the same time.

I'm pulled back again, right as I'm about to start walking away, too. Okay, enough of this. If I have to drop everything and run, that’s what I’m going to do. I don’t want to give up at the first hint of trouble, but I’m not an idiot. There are five guys in this room alone, and most of them are bigger than I am. Of course, they also might be too blitzed to do anything to me, but I'm not going to risk it if they aren't. 

It doesn't help that I can’t stop laughing nervously like some kind of dumb kid. I couldn't look any more helpless if I tried; no wonder they're all fucking with me. Maybe if they underestimate me enough, they'll be too surprised to react if I put up a fight. 

"Let him go," the redhead remarks, crossing his arms. Guess he’s done spectating; I’ve been feeling those green eyes on me nonstop since I first walked in. "Leave him alone, Xaldin. Don't scare the shit out of my guests." While the guy---Xaldin, whatever--decides whether or not to listen to the redhead, I tear myself away from him and speed to the door. I don't even stick around long enough to protest that I'm _not scared, really_! 

Fresh air hits me in the face as I rush outside. This neighborhood doesn’t smell great, but it’s better than being suffocated by tobacco and pot fumes. I pull my jacket closed, hastily doing buttons as best as I can with shaking hands. Letting out an unsteady breath, I try to shake off the feeling of all those eyes on me, the snarky smiles, the thick smell of booze. Too many people stuffed into a space too small to live in.

Riku’s bag outside. It was definitely Riku’s bag. I _know_ it was. I saw it every day for two months.

Are those really Riku’s friends? Those overly-familiar adults who have no business even talking to him, let alone hooking him up with all kinds of illegal stuff he shouldn’t be doing?

What was it about them that Riku found so appealing? What is it that they were giving him that I couldn’t?

I sniff loudly, fighting back tears. I’m _not_ crying here. Later. But not here or now.

Okay, Sora, deep breath, and keep walking.

...and try to ignore how quickly nothing looks familiar. And try to ignore the sound of boots on the pavement, the ones that speed up and slow down along with your pace.

Shit. Steeling myself, I whirl around, a little surprised to find the redhead trailing a couple feet behind me. I knew I was being followed, but I wasn’t expecting him. Dreadlocks or Eyepatch, maybe.

I try to ignore it, maybe in hopes that he'll go away or just leave me alone. I'm not scared of him when it’s just the two of us. After all, he looks like a good breeze would knock him over. But I'm all turned around and the sun will be going down soon, and this place is a lot spookier all cast in shadow like this, so... 

"What?" I finally ask, turning around. 

"Manners, kiddo," he says. I'm blushing again. Why am I blushing again? 

"Sorry... thanks for helping me back there." 

He shrugs, fishing a lighter and a cigarette from his pocket. He doesn’t speak until he lights up and takes a long drag.

"Don’t mention it. They're all assholes. Harmless, but assholes nonetheless." I hate to admit it, but that makes me smile a little. "So what are you doing out here?” he asks. “You look..." He eyes me for a long time. Like, uncomfortably long.

"What?" I ask finally.

"Lost." He smiles. “‘What’s a nice kid like you doing in a place like this?’ That kinda thing.”

I snort. Wasn’t expecting that, for some reason.

"Trust me, I am. I was just looking for my..." Boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend? Friend? I don't even know what to call him anymore. "I was looking for Riku. I haven't seen or heard from him in a couple of days. I thought I saw something of his outside your door. Sorry if I was wrong... I’ve been kind of playing this by ear." 

"Nah," he replies after a second, and suddenly his posture is more laid-back. With his hands in his pockets and an easy smile on his face, he almost looks friendly. "You weren't wrong, he's had that bag full of his shit over here for like a month. I’d bet you anything he’s out at the club on the end of that street over there." He motions to it broadly. "If he's not there then I really can't help you."

A _club?_ That doesn’t sound like Riku at all. I’m still not totally convinced this guy isn’t shitting me but… a lead’s a lead, and I’ve been finding out all kinds of interesting things about Riku since the summer. I guess this is just one more to add to the pile.

"Okay. Thanks." 

"He'll turn up," says Redhead. 

I shake my head a little, feeling almost heavy in my hopelessness. 

"I guess so." I should want to ask him a million questions, but I’m tired of seeking answers from people other than Riku. Noah, and now this guy. This is fucking ridiculous. Why couldn’t he ever just tell me the truth?

"You want me to walk you over or something?" Redhead asks. "This isn't the best place to be for someone so..." 

"Small?" I fill in flatly.

"Kid, you look like you're twelve." 

I blush. Again. 

"I'm going to be sixteen in a few weeks," I tell him. He grins wickedly, blowing smoke from his nose and mouth. 

"Never said you weren't." 

I don’t know what to do with that response, so I just do my best to get us back on track.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." 

"You sure?” he asks. “I can even get you back home no problem." 

"I'm sure." 

For a long time, he stares at me. I'm expecting him to insist or argue, but all he does is shrug, putting his hands back in his pockets. 

"I guess you do kinda look like Roxas," he says, turning and beginning his walk back home. I'm left stunned in his wake. 

Roxas.

I need to to talk to him. Now. Maybe he’ll say something--anything--that will give me some kind of idea of what I’m up against, here. And he’s the only one who knows that we haven’t seen Riku for days now. Of course, everyone at school thinks Riku’s sick. In a way, they’re not wrong.

I dig my phone out of my pocket, dialing his number by heart, feet tapping impatiently at each ring. 

"...Hello?" Roxas sounds tired, like I just woke him up or something. But that makes no sense-- the sun is only starting to set right now. 

"Hey, it's Sora." 

"Oh, hey..." His weak greeting is followed by a massive yawn. "Sorry, fell asleep studying. What’s up?" 

"Can you do me a huge favor?" 

"What?" 

“I sort of… did some investigating. To find Riku.”

“...Oh.” He sighs lightly on the other end. “Shit, Sora. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I dismiss him quickly, forging ahead as my pace quickens. “I actually think I might have found him.” 

"I don't know about this, Sora..." he says gently. "I think if Riku wants to lay low, you should let him." For as much as Roxas understands me, I don’t know how he can think I would ever be able to do that.

“I talked someone who says he knows Riku and gave me a place. Um. I was wondering if you anything about a club on the east side of town? He, um. Seemed to know you.”

It’s silent for so long on the other end, I wonder for a second if he’s hung up on me. 

“This is a really bad idea, Sora.”

“I know.”

He sighs heavily.

“I've got your back, but drop by my place before anything else. I need to talk to you in person." Without saying goodbye, he hangs up. 

I wish he hadn't. It's getting darker and darker by the minute and this place was creepy to begin with. 

*

It's a long bus ride over to Roxas's house. Almost a half hour from here. And the wait isn’t made better by knowing I’m gonna have to turn around and do it again in like, ten minutes. 

His stepmom answers when I knock on the door, smiling warmly but looking a little surprised to see me. Luckily she doesn't ask, she just lets me in and tells me Roxas is in his room. I head into the back of the house; his door is open as usual, so I give a little knock along the wall as I head in. I get the impression he’s not allowed to keep it closed… his parents are nice, but _crazy_ strict. When Roxas and I hang out around town, they make him call them every hour with a status update.

"Hey!" I call.

"Hey," Roxas says, switching off his walkman and pulling off his headphones. I take a seat next to him on his bed, kicking off my shoes and folding my legs. 

"What did you need to talk to me about?" I ask.

"I know what you're trying to do, and you're better off leaving it. If Riku’s involved with who I’m thinking... I know those guys." He slides down on his bed, almost laying down. "Or, I used to." 

I frown. Not like there are many Roxases running around, but that confirms that those guys weren’t full of it, then. I still can’t shake off the surprise, or the disgust. What, do these people make a habit of hanging out with high school kids? Why?

"What happened?" 

He averts his eyes, running his fingers through his messy blond hair.

"I was really good friends with... this guy... for a long time. I knew him since I was a little kid. I don't even remember how we met, you know? At some point he got involved with the wrong crowd and I sort of... came along for the ride, I guess." He looks me in the eye, takes a deep breath, and says it: "I'm an addict, Sora." 

I actually choke in surprise, coughing saliva down my throat as he elaborates. 

"I mean, I haven't used for like, two years, but... yeah. I was twelve when I got drunk for the first time, and then it was just... full throttle from there. It’s so cliche, but it started small when I was young, and then it just kept escalating. It wasn’t even a year before I was taking pills _all the time_ , and I _still_ thought I could handle myself." 

Horror doesn’t begin to describe what I feel on Roxas’ behalf. I wonder if that's how it was for Riku, too…

"I mean,” he says. “I don't even think I was less happy than any other kid my age, right? I guess I just... I dunno. I really trusted my friend. I'd just follow wherever he led me without even thinking anything of it." 

"Shit," I mutter out of sheer disbelief. This isn't what I was expecting--at all. Unfortunately for me, Roxas catches it and flushes a little. 

"I was miserable but thought I was happy, you know? Being high felt great for like, ten minutes, and then the rest of my life just sort of collapsed around me. I ended up getting a friend pulled in and she just… left, after a while. I don’t know what happened to her. I ended up in a place where I stopped hanging out with anyone else except that friend, I spent a lot of time alone, I was really depressed most of the time. I started fighting with my dad a lot...

I would lock myself in my room for days at a time, refused to eat... I said a lot of stuff, bad stuff that I didn't even mean. I just wanted everyone to hurt the way I did. It finally all ended when..." he stops again. Used to these talks, I wait until he's ready. "My friend was a lot older than me. He molested me when we were high one night." 

I gasp. Literally gasp.

"Holy--” I stammer for at least a minute before landing on: “Shit, I’m so sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry. He isn't... I mean, he's in jail now, right?" 

"I don't know _where_ he is," Roxas says firmly. "I never spoke to him again after that, and that was when I finally came clean and told my parents about everything that'd happened. Pretty sure my dad threatened my friend so he wouldn’t come by to talk to me anymore. Once someone I knew called the house asking if I had any drugs on me, and Dad _flipped. Out._ He took the phone from me and just screamed for forever about how if anyone ever called again asking for drugs, he'd..." Roxas actually smiles a little, shaking his head. "...not important. We ended up moving because it was too hard to be in Okeanos with me knowing that my addiction was just a bus ride away. I spent that summer in rehab, then I was starting high school in a new school district in a suburb in another county. Hayner, Pence, and Olette were like my lifeline for a while. They kind of adopted me the second they saw me... it made things a lot easier." 

I nod, feeling it so strongly. If it weren’t for Roxas and Kairi especially, but Tidus, Selphie, and Wakka, too, I’d be going crazy. And that’s not even getting into how Donald and Goofy helped me when I was living with Mom, how just by _existing_ they stopped me from ever wanting to end my life entirely, even when things felt really bleak.

"That's why I'm not allowed to close my door for too long at a time, and my curfew’s sundown, and all of that,” Roxas explains. “They're still afraid of what I might get up to. That was all my stepmom's idea… it’s a pain, but I’m not mad about it or anything. I'm glad she stuck around. Like, she really didn't have to stay and be my mom, you know?" 

"Yeah," I respond, but there's a lot of sincerity in that little word. I hope that when this is all over, if Riku ever comes home, that he'll really understand that Dad's just trying to help. I want a happy ending; for Riku, for me, for Roxas. 

"So... yeah," he concludes finally. "Guess I should've told you all that earlier." 

"Don't say that!" I tell him. "You didn't have to tell me anything. But I’m glad you did. I promise you can trust me. Man, I’m just… so sorry.”

"It's not your fault.”

Unable to stop myself, I throw my arms around him. He’s still, neither returning or evading the contact. I give him a squeeze, and that’s when he pulls away, laughing as he gently swats my arm.

"So, when are we going to find Riku?" he asks, cheerful like he didn't just bare his heart and soul to me. 

"Are you sure?" I ask, jolting back a little. Man, how many more times is he gonna surprise me tonight? 

"Yeah. I know my way around." He stands, sliding on his shoes and pulling a hoodie from the floor over his head. "Let's go." 

*

I can't really believe that we're on the bus back to the club where Riku might be. I thought Roxas would double down and tell me to mind my own business. Not that _he_ was the addict all along, that he was speaking from _his own_ experience. And I never thought I’d be doing this with someone else by my side.

But here we are. I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not.

...And the big ginger guy standing outside the building, blocking the club’s entrance when we get there isn't making me feel any better. 

"Are you lost?" he asks when I walk up to him. 

"I want to get in, please." He raises an eyebrow. "What?" 

"Come back when you grow about two feet and your voice changes." For a moment I'm left gaping in shock, jaw hanging, face bright red. 

I glance over at Roxas pleadingly. God, this is so embarrassing. 

I tell the man again that I need to get in but he doesn't even so much as listen, pulling a paper clip out of his pocket and unbending it absently as he nods to a couple of women, letting them past us. 

Roxas steps forward, coming to my rescue. 

"Move it, Lexaeus," he says. "My friend needs to get through." I don't like the way the big guy's looking Roxas up and down, eyebrows raised like he's surprised, but he steps aside. I guess I should have realized that Roxas is no stranger to this place. When I look at him, he shrugs. "Lexaeus looks intimidating, but he's one of the better ones."

When we get inside the very first thing I notice is the smell: stale liquor and cigarettes, and something musty. The first thing I think of is all the sleazy, unsafe sex that probably goes on in, around, and because of this place. Not to mention all the drug deals happening literally all around us. Ugh, gross.

The building isn’t huge, either, so everyone here is packed in tight. And man, the lighting is _terrible_ , just this annoying strobe that washes the whole place in greens that turn to reds, to blues, to whites. When my eyes adjust a little I see a small bar that stretches across the right wall and some bathroom signs. The rest is all dance floor, and one or two tables with chairs just sort of thrown haphazardly into one corner. 

Nothing about this says "Riku" to me, at all. 

Maybe I misjudged him... or maybe he's changed. Both options suck.

"Just find him and let's go," Roxas mutters under his breath, close enough to my ears that I can actually hear him over the blasting dance music. I nod in agreement and begin my search for real, shoving past people and not even caring. Man, I can’t see _anything_. I could have just passed him and might not even have noticed. And even if I do, then what? He can disappear into the crowd, get a friend to kick me out, make a scene. Hurt me. He could do anything he wants and no one would even be able to hear it.

This is stupid. I don't even know why I'm doing this. 

"Roxas? This is dumb. Let's just call it a... Roxas?" 

I turn to my left, my right, look in front and back of me and _he's not there_. This isn't good... now I need to find two people! Ugh... 

At least I'll have come out of this finding _someone_... whether it'll be Riku or Roxas, I don't know. 

“Hey!” Someone close to me yells. It’s close enough to my ear that I whip around, finding some half-drunken twenty-something year old trying to get the attention of someone near me. In a moment of bravery--or something--I respond instead.

"Hey!” I shout over the sound of synthesizers and pounding bass. “Have you seen a guy around?" 

"There are lots of guys around here!" he responds.

"Uh... yeah. Silver-white hair, kinda tall, really pale?" I think I've got his attention, so I keep going. "Green eyes, a little muscular but way skinny?" He keeps looking at me for a moment and says a name I don't hear, and it's not _Riku_. "What'd you say?" 

"I know who you're talking about! He's here all the time! Not tonight, though!" 

"Really?” I ask. “Are you sure?" 

"Positive! I haven't seen him around for a couple days!" A couple days? So he hasn’t been here since we last saw him, it sounds like, unless they happened to miss each other..

“Are you a friend of his, or…?” 

“‘Or!’” the man confirms. Again he uses a name I can’t decipher. “He and the owner’s brother are like, inseparable!” 

“Inseparable?”

“Yeah! They’re always macking on each other!” _Macking on each other?_ No. No way. That’s not Riku. Riku doesn’t _mack_ on people, not here, not in front of so many people, not while he’s _in_ a relationship with _me_. He would never cheat on me. Ever. 

He couldn’t have. I don’t know what I would do if he did.

I scurry off, leaving this poor guy completely confused in my wake. 

My mind is racing. That guy never said Riku’s name--he _definitely_ said something else. So that couldn’t have been him.

Unless Riku lied about his name. A memory flashes in my mind, so visceral--stealing sunscreen at a convenience store in the summer. Riku angry at me for using his name in front of the nice cashier. 

The guy responded to ‘silver hair’, but he could have misheard me. There are plenty of people here with dyed hair; he could easily mean someone else.

It couldn’t be Riku. It just _couldn’t_ be. There is no _possible_ way.

I… I need time to process this. Riku’s not here. Time to leave.

Now I just need to find Roxas... This shouldn't be too hard, I hope. It almost seems like Roxas is the only guy here besides me not wearing skin-tight clothing. I just need to look for a short, blond mass of hair. 

Ah! Scratch that. I just need to look for a short, blond mass of hair and shove away this drunk guy who just ran his fingers through my hair and asked me if I'm a size queen.

Okay, I'm _definitely_ out of here. 

"ROXAS!" I shout, as if he'd be able to hear it over the music. I really, really want to get out of here. Like, now. Frantically I push through the sea of people, still screaming. "ROXAS!" 

I push my way through the crowd again, navigating through dancers and staggerers and exhausted couples heading to the limited seating. Finally I see a blond boy, my blond boy, up in front standing next to the door. Man, I thought my moment of blind panic was never gonna end. 

I rush over, tapping his shoulder and giving him the "okay" sign; he opens the door for me and together we walk out in silence. The air feels really cold in comparison to the heat in the club; it's refreshing, but it doesn't help my mind any. I find myself speechless. Numb, almost. I don't know what to make of what happened in there. 

"Any luck?" he asks. 

"No," I sigh. "What happened to you?" 

"I don't know. I turned around and you were gone, so I waited by the door... I figured you'd have to leave eventually." I hold my breath and count to ten, releasing it slowly, though I don’t think I’m going to feel even remotely calm until I’m safe in my bed at home, and know that Roxas is safe in his.

"I'm so sorry to drag you into this,” I tell him earnestly. “All for nothing, too." 

He slings an arm around my shoulder. 

"It's all right," he says. "Didn't hurt anything." 

"This whole thing was stupid," I mutter, shaking my head. "I don't even know what I was thinking. I'm turning into such a stalker... some boyfriend I am. Or… wait. Ex-boyfriend?” I turn to Roxas for confirmation, wanting to cry when he nods slowly, looking at me with this pitying expression on his face. “Ex-boyfriend. Ugh… when did _that_ happen.” We walk in silence, gravitating back out to the street in search for the nearest bus stop. “I suck." 

"That's not true," Roxas says, shaking his head. "You're trying to help him, just like I needed help. If my parents hadn't stepped in I'd still be..." He glances back, in the direction of the club, of his friend. "And I fought it at first, you know? I lied and guilt tripped my family and yelled, or I wouldn't talk at all." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I was an addict. I did whatever I could to get people off my case. No matter what he says or does... you're doing the right thing. I’m glad you didn’t listen to me the first time, I guess. I still don’t want you getting too deep into this, but Riku’s really lucky to have a family that loves him, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. He will. He’ll come around.”

"Thanks, Roxas," I respond, trying to believe him. 

*

It's a Tuesday when Noah calls with some news: five days since Riku completely disappeared, abandoning the mess that he made of things and not even bothering to tell anyone what was going on. 

"Riku's with me," he says without even giving me a chance to say hello. 

"How long? Is he okay?" I ask. 

"Twelve hours, maybe not even that,” Noah answers. “He turned up really early at my place… I was up getting ready for class and he was just sitting outside. I don’t think he was there long.”

“Is he…?”

“He seems okay. A little shaken, but okay. I didn't want to wake you, or else I would've called sooner. But... yeah, Riku's here, and he's in one piece. And..." he trails off, hesitating. "That's all I know at this point. Can I talk to your dad?" 

Overwhelmed, I almost hang up but I don’t. Somehow I get the energy to walk over to Dad’s room and hand over my cell phone, letting them hash out the details.

The next day Riku actually shows up to his classes. During Health we both stare ahead, focused and avoidant. We don't even say hi. Then at three he comes home on the same bus as me, picks up the last of his clothes and all his school supplies, and moves in with Noah. 

"This is temporary," Noah assures me that night, again over the phone. "He just..." I hear in a voice in the background that must be Riku's, "he needed a change of scenery." His voice gets quiet; Riku must have left the room or something. "He’s doing really well. He seems serious about school and getting better." 

"Can I talk to him?" I ask. 

"Yeah, hold on." A muffled, “ _Hey, Riku--would you mind coming over here for a second?”_ and a pause.

"Um... Sora?" 

"Yeah?" 

"He said he doesn't want to talk to you." 

"...Oh." 

And, well, that's that. 

I’m not pressing it any further. I’m not going to waste my time groveling and sniveling and begging for him to give me the time of day when he’s been shitty to me non-stop for almost half the time we’ve known each other. I’m glad he’s alive. I’m glad he’s safe. But he’s not my boyfriend anymore. I don’t think he’s seen me as his boyfriend in a long time, if he’s been _macking_ on other guys right under my nose.

So screw it.

If Riku can move on, so can I.

*

It takes a week or so for my classmates to realize that Riku and I are in the _off_ phase of what I think I can officially consider an on-again/off-again relationship. Riku stops eating at our lunch spot, still doesn’t talk to me during Health class. He’s all but cut ties with our mutual friends, seeming distant and alone the few times I see him during our passing period. I want to help, but he’s made his own choices, and this is how it’s turning out. It’s all up to him now.

The start of week two, I notice a guy from my economics class hanging out by my locker one morning before first period. Before I can ask him to move for a sec, he nervously blurts out a question I wouldn’t have expected to hear in a million years:

“Will you go out with me?”

I literally have no clue how to respond. 

And then, suddenly, I do.

“Yeah,” I say, my face almost as pink as his.

*

His name’s Vaan, and he's not quite as tall or handsome as Riku--but close. Tan and blond, he’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the drawer but makes up for it by being really, really sweet. And Kairi likes him, which is always a plus in my eyes. She has good taste--after all, I'm her best friend. 

He takes me to some mindless action flick which neither of us really pay attention to. We go after school on a Wednesday, which I don’t totally get until I realize that the theater is pretty much empty except for us. That means we get our pick of seating and end up with prime seats in the center of the back row, our armrests flipped up so we can sit a little too close. At some point I turn over to make some dumb, snarky comment at a preview and he kisses me, and I kiss back, and yeah… I couldn't tell you how the movie was, but I could talk for a week about Vaan’s mouth. 

He drops me back off at Dad's just before dinner--he's got some weird curfew--which is fine, because I really need the time to sort out what just happened. 

I sneak straight into Dad's study when I get in, locking the door behind me and rushing upstairs. It doesn't look like he's working, sitting back and reading some novel. Good, he deserves a break. He works really hard, especially lately. Not that I'd ever tell him this, but I think at his age he shouldn't be doing so many stressful things. Especially with the whole Riku situation. 

"Hey, Dad," I say. He jumps, folding a page in before setting his book down. 

"Hey, kid," he responds, smiling. "When'd you get home?" 

"Just now. Whatcha reading?" 

He rubs his eyes with his arm and sighs. "Something incredibly boring. But I need to stop playing computer games when I'm off work." I laugh, taking a seat on the floor in front of his chair, legs folded. "How'd your date go?" 

"It was awesome! Vaan's a great guy." 

"Is there going to be a second date?" 

Wow, _that_ question shouldn't have made my stomach drop... 

"Um, I don't know. We didn't really talk about it. I kind of want this to stay casual, though." 

"Understandable," Dad says. "I don't think anyone will expect you to jump into a new relationship so soon." 

My face drops a little. I'm really mad at Riku, but I miss him sometimes, too, and I don't know if that really makes any sense. I slump forward, letting myself really, truly realize what this date means. It means I'm moving on, that I'm trying to do better for myself. But it also means I'm giving up... then again, maybe sometimes you have to give up to be happy. "Hey, you okay, kid?" Dad’s voice is gentle and even when he asks. Not prying, just curious.

I press my fingernail into the carpet, tracing the grains in the floor. 

“...Yeah,” I decide on the spot. “It’s fine. I just hate that this is happening. Maybe it’s stupid, but I never saw myself with anyone else.” I shake my head at myself. Man, that’s naive. “I just miss Riku so much all the time, but... even before he left. I miss the person he used to be, not this new one.”

"I think this'll be good for both of you," Dad says decisively. "I think that the best thing is for Riku to be away for a little, to collect his thoughts." I look up again, acknowledging him. "His friend Noah and I have been in touch, and he seems like a good kid. A good man,” he corrects himself. “Hopefully he can do something to make Riku see some sense." 

"Yeah, he seems cool," I sigh, almost not wanting to admit it. Who knew I'd end up jealous of some jerk from Riku's past. "Do you really think this is for the best?" Dad nods.

"I do. I want to help, more than anything. Riku is a part of our family. But _you_ are my son, and I can’t sit back and watch you get hurt." 

"Yeah..."

I try to feel comforted, but it’s all so sad. It feels like yesterday Dad and I were planning Riku’s belated sixteenth birthday together, or that we were eating breakfast with my aunt or opening Christmas presents.

...No it doesn’t. This year has been crazy long. I’d be glad it’s ending, but it really doesn’t feel like that would mean the _end_ of any of the stuff going on right now. I just want to go and take a nap, then have this all be over with when I wake up.

"Hey," Dad says, voice suddenly bright. "Let's get to planning your sweet sixteen. I think your birthday falls on a weekday this year... how do you feel like planning for the end of the month? That’ll give us plenty of time to get ready." 

I nod, enthusiasm emphasized with an emphatic, “Yeah!” Now _that's_ the distraction I need to get all this confusion away from my head. 

*

For the next few days, Dad and I buckle down and start sending out invitations to friends and classmates, buying party supplies and looking at cakes to order. Roxas, Kairi, Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie… all my friends I see every day are going to be there, plus Joshua and his friends, too. I even get a lot of yeses and optimistic maybe’s from some classmates I’ve been partnered with for assignments and have gotten along with. 

Then birthday cards and little gifts start sending in the mail from my relatives. The Friday before my birthday, I even hear from Donald and Goofy! They send me a joint card and a bunch of candy, and once it arrives I call them up individually, just to chat and catch up. Neither of them have cell phones yet, but I make them promise that they’ll let me know as soon as they do. Just getting to message or call them whenever would be so cool.

For the first time in ages I’m excited about something, and I just feel like the normal kid I deserve to be every once in a while. I’m happy. Really. 

But I just feel kinda weird about where things left off with Riku, and it’d be nice to get that resolved before my party, which we’ve slated for two Saturdays after my actual birthday. Just to have one less thing looming over me, I mean.

The night before my birthday proper, I give Noah a call. I guess I miss him, because my “hello?” is met with a beat of silence, then a dial tone.

Okay. Fine. So Riku’s still not talking to me for whatever reason. Is he just not gonna speak to me ever again? 

If anything, that just makes me even more determined. I give it an hour and call back, silently relieved when Noah picks up. Riku’s silence won’t stop me from trying even if I don't know exactly what I'm going to say or what I’m looking for, but it helps to at least start with someone who’ll say on the line for more than ten seconds. 

...Actually, I think I want to invite Riku to my birthday party, as dumb as that sounds. Just. To put it out there. Pretend everything is okay for a night.

“Hey, Sora!” Noah’s friendly as always, jovial as he greets me. “How's it going?" I don’t mean to be rude, I think at this point we can skip the pleasantries. We both know what I'm after. 

"Riku still isn't talking to me, is he?" I ask, but it's not really a question. After all, I know the answer. My phone still in hand, I wander from the dining room table, where I just finished my homework, into the living room and take a seat on the couch, one leg tucked under me. 

"He's not ready yet," Noah says. "I'm really sorry." 

My answer to this response is getting harder and harder to force out. 

"It's okay.” Not ready, Noah always says, which doesn’t make things easier to decipher. Ready. Does that imply that Riku’s, what, scared? Of me? He doesn’t need to be. Not ever. I repeat my usual refrain: “Hey, would you mind asking him why he's not talking to me?" 

"I will." 

Then I add a new one: "And let him know that I love him? And that he can still talk to me anytime he wants to?" 

"I will. Absolutely.” With a long sigh, I thank him. I wasn’t expecting anything other than this, but I’m still disappointed. “Hey, Sora--before you go. Are you doing okay?" 

"Yeah,” I say, and I don’t even mean to be sarcastic at first. “I mean, my best friend and boyfriend isn’t talking to me and I don’t know for sure if we’re still together or not, and I’m still trying to process that he went missing and came back, and I just want him to come home, and I'm terrified for him because I don't want him to die alone. But I’m okay. Really." 

"He's not alone," says Noah firmly. "And he's not going to die. I'm looking after him as best as I can.” With what sounds like a small hint of pride, he says, “As far as I know, he hasn't gone to see any those people _or_ gotten high since he's moved in with me. I told Riku he can stay with me as long as he likes, and I meant it. Listen... I think Riku is amazing and I care about him more than I can ever say. I'm not about to let anything bad happen to him. I promise." 

Oh my god. 

I'm such an idiot. I'm such a stupid idiot, of course it was leading up to this. The way Noah gets Riku so flustered, how he broke through Riku’s cold demeanor so easily... how quick this all happened, how Riku just packed up his stuff and moved in with him... hell, Riku had a crush on him when he was a kid, and now Noah's saying all this mushy stuff? 

"Are you hooking up with my boyfriend?" I ask. No-- _accuse_. 

There's dead silence on the other side, but only for a moment, only for the time it takes for me to get my leg out from underneath me since it's starting to fall asleep. 

"What did you just say?" Noah asks, sounding completely caught off-guard. 

"You like Riku! You totally like him!" 

He's quiet for a little while. 

"Riku is... I..." A heavy sigh on his end. "Look, you're right. I... yeah, I do feel that way about him. But no. We're not together." 

I frown, scooting down into the couch, not sure whether that answer makes things less complicated, or more. 

"Oh. I just thought..." 

"Riku still loves you," Noah says a little slowly. The next part is surer. "Look, he had feelings for me once and I betrayed him, and now he'll never feel that way for me again. I only pursue people who are actually interested in me." There's a really awkward pause, then he continues. "If... Riku and I didn't have a really complicated history, and if I hadn't met him when he was a preteen... and if we didn't both have baggage... and if I were a complete moron who couldn't see that you guys belong together, then yeah, I'd ask him out in a heartbeat. But no, I'm not trying to hook up with your boyfriend." 

"I..." 

"Sorry, I really need to go. I have a test to study for." 

I'm a little taken aback by his abruptness; I'm sure he does have to get going, but to be honest I feel pretty snubbed. 

"Oh, okay." 

"Call anytime you need to, Sora. Have a good night." 

"You too." 

_Click._

Well, that's a relief. Sort of. 

I pick up the remote from next to me and flip on the TV, finding the most mind-numbing thing I can to kill time. I just don't know what to do with myself, head all over the place from my conversation with Noah. He likes Riku. Does Riku like him back? I just can't say. 

When my phone rings I start a little, not expecting a call. For a moment I'm dumb enough to think and hope that it's Riku. But of course, it isn't. Surprisingly, it's Joshua. 

"Shiki is throwing a little bash tonight," he says. "And I was wondering if you'd like to make an appearance." 

I glance at the clock--almost nine. It's a Friday night, so why not? 

I give myself a half hour to pull myself together emotionally and actually get permission from Dad to head out. If I had any reason to think Dad would hesitate given everything with Riku, I’m proven wrong. He seems enthusiastic about me getting out of the house to be with friends and even offers to sit in the passenger's seat of his car so I can drive there myself. My driver's test is coming up really soon... two more days. It's kind of daunting to think about! 

The drive there is smooth, no incidents, and Dad gives me a hug that lasts _almost_ a second too long on my way out the door. My first thought is that it would’ve been embarrassing if any of my classmates saw it; the second is that I really, really needed it.

“Bye, Dad!” I call, hopping out of the driver’s seat and bounding onto the sidewalk. I watch him scoot into the driver’s side and give me a wave as he drives off. 

Shiki lives a few doors down from Kairi, so I'm at least somewhat familiar with the neighborhood. I don't know Shiki herself that well, though. Hopefully she won't mind I’m dropping by. 

I knock on the door, eyes scanning the tall flowers planted in a bed next to the door as I wait for someone to let me in. Birds of Paradise. Dad was thinking about planting some a few weeks back but we never got around to it. Kairi’s place has a similar set-up, but her family put out roses. Sometimes they make me sneeze as I walk into the entryway. I hope Kairi’s here tonight. It’d be nice just to kick around with her for a while… I’ve been spending a lot of time with just Roxas lately. I hope she doesn’t feel left out.

"...Well?" Joshua’s sing-songy voice floats over to me from the doorway. I wonder if he was waiting for me? "Are you coming in, or did you want to just take a few moments to admire the flowers?" 

"A little of both I guess!" I respond with a grin, taking my first step inside. Joshua motions for me to follow him, and I find myself nestled into a small group containing Shiki and a quiet kid in my Literature class named Neku. Then Beat from my Economics class bounds up to us, his little sister in tow, and I sidestep to let them into the circle. I hang back in the conversation, realizing quickly that they share a friendship with each other that I’m not part of. Actually, I think I’ve exchanged maybe about twenty words combined with Shiki and Neku both--with about eighteen of those coming from Shiki. Then there’s Rhyme, who I don’t see much since she’s a freshman. It’s cool they let her hang out with them, though. She seems nice.

Beat’s a little different. We were partnered for a project together once when Roxas was out sick. I basically did all of the work, but he was really gracious about it, so I don’t really have hard feelings. I find myself keeping my distance from him, though, which is unfair. It’s just that he reminds me a little bit of the guys who used to bully me, so I haven’t really tried to get to know him at all, even though he sits right next to me in our shared class.

"Yo, Sora!" Beat says, seeming to notice me for the first time. He greets me with a punch to the shoulder that was a little more painful than he probably meant it to be. 

"Hey, man," I respond, rubbing the now-tender spot before returning the punch. We launch into a side-conversation on our own; about our econ class, how the last test sort of reamed both of us, and even make tentative plans to study together that I’m not sure either of us intend to see through. 

"Sure your boyfriend won't mind?" Beat teases, and I find myself shifting a little, uncomfortable with where this is going. 

"Yeah, about that..." I say, laughing a little. 

"Aw, I knew it!" he cries. "Shiki was tellin’ us that something went down!" 

I try to stop myself from frowning at that, which means my face gives this really weird little twitch. Unfortunately, Beat catches it. 

"Yo, not like I'm happy about it or nothin'." 

"It's okay," I respond with more strength than I really feel. "It's high school. People talk." I grin, placing my hands behind my head. "Besides, I know you're straight, so it’s not like you were waiting for the right moment to snatch one of us up." 

"Riku ain't my type, man. I just broke up with my girl, though, guess now would be the time since we're both swingin' single." 

"That's right!" I say. In a moment of courage, I toss a joke at him that would never have flown in middle school. "You're always hanging onto cute little brunettes, huh? Maybe I should watch out!" 

Beat actually flails, leaning back, limbs poised to bolt. 

"What--I, no--" 

I just grin and laugh and turn away, set on finding something fun to drink from the snack table set up in the kitchen. 

*

Two hours later, I've hit a lull. I'm tired but I shouldn't be, and I'm having fun but beginning to wonder if I should head home. My phone is in my hand and I'm about to ask Dad if he’d be willing to pick me up when Beat swaggers back over, taking a seat next to me on the couch. 

"Yo man, you're missing all the action!" 

I mumble something that doesn't make any real sense in return. 

"Wish I was _getting_ some action," I respond, finally, which is a stupid thing to say. Beat howls with laughter. 

"You and me both, man!" he says, then he leans over and presses his lips against my cheek. 

I jolt away, not because I don't want it, but mostly because what the fuck? Beat is _straight_ , what's he playing at? 

"What?" he asks, face a little red, and there are so many different ways I could respond that I don't even know where to begin. "Hey, you're the one who said it!" 

"Said what?" I say a little too loudly, feeling like this is a trap somehow. But that's not fair, since this is Okeanos and not my hometown, and Beat is a cool guy. 

"That I like brunettes!" Beat says, and just like that, I decide to go with it. 

*

I lose track of how long we've been kissing after Shiki lets us take a room upstairs. This is a new experience for me; I've never been with a macho kind of guy. Since Riku, the guys have seen have all been more like me: shorter, slighter, softer. More importantly, they’ve all been openly gay. I don’t know what’s going on with Beat, but… I can get into it. I feel like every bit what the boys at my old school were so afraid of, and I kind of like it.

The upstairs guest bed is soft, kinda fluffy, and has a little give to it. When Beat flattens himself on top of me, it's almost like I'm sinking. But I think I'm okay with it. His mouth his rougher than Riku's; clumsier, too. His hands are a little larger, less inhibited. I think the feeling of a boner pressing against you is sort of universal, though. I should probably be hesitating a little more but... 

"Shit, dude." 

The words are warm in my ear, and a mouth trails along my jawline, hands oddly tender on me as he settles into a comfortable position. 

"Yep," I respond a little breathlessly, finding the courage to do a little exploration of my own. I trail my hands from his sides across his back, pushing up the end of his shirt to feel the firm muscle and warm skin even closer. His lips meet mine again, and again I seem to open my mouth like it's natural, like we do this all the time. And honestly, I wouldn't mind it if we did. 

*

Once the end of October comes around, everything seems to kick into high gear. I get my driver's license finally, for one thing, and midterms are here again, so I spend a lot of time studying in the library. But I'm out a lot more, too. With Kairi or Roxas, with friends, with boys. Beat and I are friendly when we see each other in school, but whether or not we'll have a repeat performance of what happened at Shiki's party sort of... remains to be seen. 

Despite all my uncertainty, one thing’s for sure: my sweet sixteen ends up being a huge success. Back when I was living with my mom, I never would have believed that this many people were capable of liking or caring about me. But I feel so, so at home, gravitating around my groups of friends and classmates, serving up chocolate mousse cake and ice cream and collecting brightly-wrapped gifts. I hardly even think about how much I miss Riku. With Kairi on my arm and Roxas next to me as we lounge on the couch, I almost don’t even need to.

It’s nearing eleven at night when the party has officially nearly dissipated only my closest friends stick around and Dad reemerges downstairs. For the most part he’s been in his room or study, letting us all be, which is nice. I think if he had it his way he’d have spent some time with Sandy, but she must’ve had a shift at the hospital or something. Either way, he greets us happily as he comes down the stairs before all but dragging me into the garage. “For my gift”, he says, which is weird. On my actual birthday, we went to get dinner then did presents when we got home. He got me a bunch of clothes. But I follow him without question, and when he flips on the light I almost keel over. 

A car.

It's huge, probably because Dad would want me to come off better if I got into a crash or something, an off-white, beige kind of color. Four doors, leather interior.

Man... a _car_... 

Completely thunderstruck, I don't know what to do or say or how to process it. So I give Dad a hug and a "thanks" that's so much of an understatement that it almost sounds insincere. But Dad gets me, so it's okay. 

*

Our winter formal is halfway through November this year, and about ten minutes after that particular piece of news breaks out, I snag myself a date. 

Zidane's a good guy. We've been in study groups together and we've got pretty similar temperaments, so I know we're gonna have a good time. Honestly, I'm super flattered by all the attention I've been getting since Riku and I stopped going around together. I kind of can’t believe it hasn’t really… stopped yet?

Friday night swings around almost by surprise, and all the sudden I'm making my way over to Kairi's, where she, her date, Zidane, and I are all gonna meet up and drive over to school together. For the most part, things go well. I rotate between dancing with Zidane and Kairi (when her date will let me), the four of us having a great time without a hitch, until I see it: in the last place I would ever expect, silver hair and green eyes, the sight I was convinced I’d find in that run-down club on the other side of down over a month ago.

Riku is here. 

And... is he with _Noah_? 

"Want some punch?" I ask to no one in particular, maybe Zidane or Kairi or her date. I'm too distracted to hear the answer. "I'll get us all some." 

I hurry over to the punch table, where Riku and Noah are sitting close to each other, their faces pressed in close, talking and laughing. Smiling. Noah’s hand keeps brushing Riku’s on the table. 

Well, it looks like _they’re_ having fun. 

"Riku, what are you doing here?" I ask. He glances at Noah, almost-pleadingly, almost-glaring. Noah catches whatever message is being sent by that and excuses himself, giving me a sheepish greeting on his way. 

"Same thing you are," Riku says. His first words to me since September. "Is that not allowed?" 

I frown. 

"Don't say that, Riku." The next part comes out almost on its own, even though it's really a question I don't want the answer to. "I just thought you didn’t like this kind of thing." I start to say 'good for you', then feel petty when I can't force it out. 

"Wasn't my idea. Zachary Noah has his ways." Zachary Noah… huh. That rings a bell. “We just thought it would be funny,” he clarifies. We. Noah, or Zachary or whatever, and Riku are a “we” now.

"Isn't he in college?" I ask.

"He had a night off," he replies. "And you're encouraged to bring a date, anyway." He shrugs a little awkwardly, averting his eyes. 

"So you guys _are_ together." I don't know why my stomach, my mood, my entire _heart_ drops. It's not like I came alone, myself. I laugh a little, once again out of nervousness, but out of sadness too. I can't really explain it. 

"We're definitely not." 

"...Oh." 

He turns away, making some excuse about how he needs to go find Noah that I hardly hear over the loud pop music blaring out of the speakers propped way too close to us. But before leaving he says, "If I'm not with you, I'm not with anyone. I thought I made that clear." 

I stumble back to my group, feeling like I've just had an out-of-body experience but not knowing why. 

Riku still doesn't know. 

He hasn't figured out that Noah's really hot for him... but at least I think that's the extent of the dude’s feelings for my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Friend. Classmate. Whatever. 

And that's... sort of a relief.

If I’m not with you, I’m not with anyone, Riku said. Is that true? Can I even _handle_ that kind of responsibility? 

"No punch?" Zidane asks, grinning. Shit. 

"I got distracted," I say honestly. 

"I wasn't thirsty anyway. Can't say the same about Kairi, though." His gentle teasing is lost on me. Riku and I just spoke for the first time in a month, and it was like we had never been anything more than acquaintances. There are so many things I could've said, or done, but I just didn't think of it. And it's too late now. "Hey, come on. Let's go dance." 

"Yeah!" I say with a little too much enthusiasm, glad for whatever distraction I can get. 

The next song that comes on is a slow one. That's okay. It's nice to be close to another person, and I don't find myself feeling self-conscious in the least when he presses his lips against mine in a chaste little kiss. I don't even mind that much if Riku sees. Or doesn't see. 

From now on I'm just gonna have to let things be, and let them go. 


	32. Come Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku makes progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest chapter EVER lmao I'm so sorry

Two weeks. 

For two weeks I've been living with Zachary. 

I didn't mean for it to last this long, not really. I just meant to be here for a day or so, but I guess everyone knows how these things go. One day turns to two and three, and suddenly a weekend turns into a week and weeks crawl into months. For now, Zachary's okay with this arrangement. Sometimes, when he gets home from class, I think he may even be happy to see me. Things around me are at peace; the things in my head, maybe not as much.

I'm pretty sure Sora thinks that I'm mad at him, but I'm not. He hasn't done anything wrong, and I think that sentiment can pretty much sum up our whole relationship. It's all me... he's this beautiful human being and I've done so many shitty things... and I hurt so much these days, more than ever and I don't know why... I don't trust myself around Sora, don't trust myself not to say something biting or mean. Don't trust myself not to hurt him, don’t trust him not to stay with me until the bitter end. He deserves the best, and I think the sooner he can get away from me, the better for him.

Sometimes I think that this would all end if I just quit using drugs, but the idea is so daunting. What else has ever brought me this kind of happiness? And how could I ever begin to clean the mess I’ve made of everything?

...And if I really feel like being honest with myself, it was the brief stint of forced sobriety I experienced after running away a few weeks ago that brought me crawling to Zachary Noah in the first place.

Ugh, I'm so fucked, and I'm trying _so_ hard not to keep fucking over other people. 

In the meantime, I just… try to go back to normal. I go to school, do homework. I try make myself want to do this again, want to learn and to improve myself so I feel like I'm going somewhere, want to feel good and productive, but for now I just feel busy and that might be a step forward, at least. 

The idle chatter during my shared time with Zachary has gotten easier than it was in the beginning. The little questions and swapped stories feel natural, seamless. I guess you could say I'm warming up to him, slowly but surely.

After dinner he lets me lounge around in his room, giving me a desk to work at while I try my hand at writing again, but it's hard not to get distracted by the photos he keeps all over the place. I keep glancing up and seeing curly, strawberry blonde hair, longer than I remember, and blue eyes on an older-but-familiar face.

Not that I care, but I bet Neri’s still a straight A student, a star athlete, and popular. I bet every college wants him and he still has tons of admirers and I care, I care so much, I fucking _hate_ it. Hate that I _know_ he's happy and successful after everything that he did to me, and I'm sitting here with nothing. There is _no_ such thing as comeuppance. No one back there has any reason to feel _anything_ about what they did to me. They get to live their lives, I get to live with the consequences. I just want to smash the frame on his desk and the bulletin board on his wall into a thousand pieces, make it hurt. Make them hurt. Make _me_ hurt. 

I don't touch anything, though, except to turn the offending picture a few inches. Now I'm faced with a new, older one. The preteen version of Zachary is easy to recognize, but I don't know the sad-eyed boy he's latched onto. I take it and examine it closely, as if something will appear out of nowhere. I don't notice that Zachary's come up until he gently takes it from my hand. 

"That's me with my first boyfriend," he says quietly. 

"Oh," I say, like an apology. 

"Yeah," he mutters. He holds on to the picture for a long time, looking at me and his boyfriend and his old self. Then he sets it back down and crawls into bed. 

Well, I guess that's my cue to leave. I take my book and retreat to the couch, falling asleep the second my head hits the pillow. For once. 

Saturday comes as quickly and smoothly as it can. All week I've attended my classes, turned in my homework, and I've even taken on a couple of easy extra credit assignments so I don't get an angry call from Mr. Hart as he tries to parent me from afar. 

In the evening, Zachary and I drag chairs outside the front door and sit, staring out at the city below. For a long time we're silent, then we'll say a word or two, then we're silent again. But it's nice. He even gets me laughing once or twice: something I haven't done in a long time. Too long. 

"Oh hey, before I forget," Zachary says evenly, feigning lightness. "Sora called this afternoon while you were in the shower." Oh. "You know, you'll have to stop avoiding him eventually." 

"I'm not avoiding him,” I tell him. “I just don't want to speak to him right now. Is that so bad?" He doesn't respond, and we're quiet until he changes the subject. 

"How've you been?" he asks. ...Weird question. 

"Fine?" I reply. "I'm fine." 

"No, Riku, I mean... how've you been? Like, _really_ how've you been." I snort back a laugh. 

"I'm alive, aren't I?" I ask, shooting him a glance before letting my eyes drift forward again. "I've been beaten and bruised and kicked around and starved, but I'm still here. That's how I've been." 

"I can't imagine what that must have been like for you," Zachary says quietly. "Out there all alone. Especially after what happened between the two of us." I'm about to protest, but he speaks again too quickly for me to get a word in. "I know that wasn't the only thing going on in your life. But I can't imagine how lonely you must have been." 

"I _was_ lonely," I agree. "But I never really knew anything else, either." 

"Do you ever get homesick?" he asks.

“What, for Sora’s place? ...Or Darry?”

“Either. Darry.”

I don't even have to think about my answer. 

"No." 

"Never?" he asks.

"Not once." I ignore Zachary's low, long whistle. "Why would I?" 

"I don't know," he admits. "Sometimes things seem better after you lose them." I can hardly stifle a snort. 

"I had nothing to lose,” I tell him firmly. “When I ran away, I got to do anything I wanted. Didn’t have to answer to anyone anymore."

“It almost sounds like you miss it,” Zachary observes. I say nothing. I don’t have an answer. “What about your family?” he asks next. “Your parents?” I almost say no. I _should_ say no, but I think about how sick I feel whenever I think of Mom and how much I want to see her all the time. That never really went away. Actually, it’s only gotten worse. I miss her smile and laughter, the hard look in her eyes when she’d challenge Nathan, the way she’d cover for me. And all those hours of drinking sweet tea on the porch outside whenever she was well enough to leave her room.

Oh, and Nathan’s cooking. I _fucking_ miss Nathan’s cooking.

“It’s complicated,” is what I end up with. 

Zachary just shrugs, sighing. "I guess I'm the one who's homesick. I miss my friends." I miss Sora. I miss Sora so much that sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, I close my eyes and pretend that he's there. I try to hear the sound of his breathing and the heat radiating from his body into mine. I remind myself how not okay it is that we’re apart, because accepting the end of our relationship makes it feel like none of it ever meant anything. I’d rather hurt than admit it’s over. When I’m okay with how things ended, that’s when it truly ends. "It feels like I keep losing everyone close to me." 

"Your boyfriend," I guess. Zachary looks almost startled for a moment. 

"Yeah," he says, eyebrows raised a little. "It's hard when you... when you cultivate this family for yourself then you all go your separate ways." 

"I'm sure it is." I don't know if that was the right thing to say, but it sounds right. He nods, a distant look in his eyes. 

"I'm glad you're here, Riku," he says suddenly, which I'm not expecting. "You remind me of someone else who should be here." 

"In my place?" I can't help but ask. The serious frown that crosses his face is just as unexpected as the initial comment. 

"Of course not, Riku." 

"...oh." 

He smiles a little at some far-off memory. 

"He was artistic like you are, and bright, too. Mature for his age. People didn't really understand him. But I loved him for it, you know?" No. 

...Yes. 

"We were outcasts our whole time together,” he continues. “I think that makes you bond like nothing else.” I swallow past a sudden pain in my throat. Yeah, it does.

“What happened to him?” I ask. He rubs his arm as a cool breeze kicks up. 

“He killed himself.” I go still, somehow not expecting that and expecting it all at once. “He was bullied like crazy once we started middle school together. Then it started happening to me, just by association, but I didn’t get it nearly as bad as he did. I tried to be there for him, but I could see him getting quieter, starting to second-guess himself. It was like seeing something get snuffed out inside him. It happened for a few years, then… we were supposed to have a sleepover one night, but I had a lot of homework to do so I canceled. The next day I rode my bike over to cheer him up, because I knew he’d been disappointed. There was caution tape around his house and the street was swarming with police. Even the fire department was there. I knew what happened the second I saw it. They didn’t even need to tell me.”

He takes a slow, deep, quivering breath. 

“We were inseparable, and all the sudden he was gone. I eventually moved on, made friends who ended up getting popular. But I never forgot him. And then this whole thing happened with you, and I… did what I did, and you _left_. I don’t think any of us entertained the idea that you would still be alive. That happened and I thought, _fuck_! That was my second chance!” 

I'm speechless, wasn't prepared to get drawn into this. His pain becomes my own, and it overwhelms me. But at the same time this is a very human pain; it reminds me that I can feel for other people, and that that's healthy. 

“...Sorry,” I say. “Not for leaving. But about your boyfriend.”

"It's okay, Riku. And so am I." 

After a while he timidly reaches out to put his hand on my shoulder. For once, I don't push him away. 

We end up heading to bed at eleven, but it feels later. I find myself sitting at the foot of Zachary's bed as he settles himself under the covers. I'd been all ready to sleep downstairs, too, so I don't know what compelled me to come up. Waiting for his light to turn off, maybe. Just got restless watching him be restless. 

"Not tired?" he asks. 

"No." Not after tonight. No way. My mind is spinning, my whole perception of Zachary has been majorly fucked. He really, really wasn’t bullshitting me when he said he knew what I’d been through. He saw it first hand with someone he cared about. He _lived_ it. 

And I really need a fix. I miss my heroin rush; my five days on the streets were itchy and very, very nauseated. "I want to go out." He frowns at that and his eyebrow gives a little quirk. An unconscious gesture. 

"I’d prefer if you didn’t,” he says softly. “I’m having a good time with you.” 

“You want me to stop,” I translate. “Just like everyone else.”

“I just want you to be safe." 

"I _am_ safe," I insist. I don't know why the next part slips out, but it does before I can stop it. "But a few weeks ago, I was almost assaulted." I swallow hard. The memory is fuzzy now, but I remember every time I dance with that man now, what it feels like to have his viselike grip on my throat. “I _was_ assaulted.” There’s no weight off my chest, saying it out loud finally. It just feels realer than ever.

Zachary catapults up as though waking forcefully from a nightmare. 

" _What_?" 

"It was nothing. It was some... guy...." Still I don't know how to explain what happened without letting it all slip out, my fucked up relationship with that man, the way I've all but whored myself out to him for months now. And that's not even mentioning all the drinking Zachary still doesn't know I do. "It was my fault, really. I instigated it. And I paid for it." 

Zachary looks at me closely, like he's never seen me before, his dark eyes unreadable. 

"I don't know how I turned out so fucked up," I confess, finally. 

"I feel like I had a hand in that," Zachary responds softly. "I'm so, so very sorry. About everything." 

“It isn’t just you.” I feel compelled to say my piece, to assure him that I wasn't his lost second chance. Robbing him of that power, but also putting it to rest. “You asked about my family… things weren’t easy with them.” 

“Right,” he says. “I should’ve guessed. I know your mother wasn’t… always alright.”

“It wasn’t her.”

I _see_ him mentally cancel whatever he was about to say next about her as he recalibrates his perception of our dynamic.

“My parents were always gone while I was growing up,” Zachary offers in return. “I always acted like I thought it was so cool because it meant I got to throw parties. But mainly… I was lonely. I’m sorry.”

"I'm sorry too," I say. "For... for what happened to you." He nods, looking resigned. I bet he's as used to hearing useless "sorry"s as I am. 

I'm not sure how long we remain like this, Zachary back under his covers and myself sitting at the edge of his bed. All I know is, at some point our eyes get tired and I begin to feel heavy all over. I let myself fall back, and Zachary throws the bedspread and sheets over my exhausted body. We sleep curled against each other, Zachary's arm over me as if to protect me from something, his body warm against mine. 

\ 

He's half on top of me when I wake up a little before seven in the morning. His arms have still got me, tight, in some sort of affectionate death grip. I'm still for a while, feeling his chest move gently as he breathes, warm breath escaping from his parted lips and sliding against the side of my face. It's when he twitches and murmurs something I can't quite catch that I find it safe to turn around, not to loosen myself from his grasp but to switch sides since I'm pretty sure at least half my body is asleep. Sleeping with my cheek pressed against his chest works for me, too. 

I'm drifting when Zachary's cell phone buzzes on his desk, startling the two of us awake. Zachary breathes in deep, reaching over me to grab the phone from his desk and fumbling; I catch him mumble " _shit_ " as the phone drops, narrowly missing my face, but still I don't move. Maybe I can get a few more minutes sleep... 

Zachary makes a happy noise next to me, shaking the bed and almost smacking me again as he crosses his legs. Okay, I guess we're up. 

"Hey," he says, already sounding like he's had a cup of coffee. "So, I originally had a date scheduled for tonight but it fell through... looks like it's back on, so I guess I'll be out tonight." 

The feeling that my stomach goes through is something like a free fall, as I look up at his grinning face from our rumpled bed. 

"...oh. Cool." 

"Are you going to be okay here yourself tonight?" he asks, jumping out of bed with this annoying skip in his step. I snort. 

"Sure, Mom. Just make sure to tape your cell number to the refrigerator for the babysitter." 

The remark at least earns me a grin as he fishes a T-shirt from his dresser drawer. Man, why am I being so bitter, it's not like there was something between us... I'm still trying to decide if we've even gotten as far as "just friends". 

Five comes too fast, and before I know it, Zachary's showering and getting ready for his date, and the nicer he looks the more sour my mood gets. I've pinpointed it though: I feel betrayed. But that's got nothing to do with him... I'm the one who turned up on his step with no place to go, I'm the one who needed to be taken in, I'm the one who's fucked up, here. I should want Zachary to go out on dates and have a great time and really have this turn into something for him, but I don't. But I think the acknowledgment of my piss-poor attitude is the first step. Towards what, I don't know. 

\

With the apartment to myself, I take the chance to unwind and enjoy the rare privacy. Reading calms me for the first time in a while. Or maybe it's the beer. Either way, I'm almost in something resembling a good mood--without heroin!--and this combination is really doing it for me. Zachary told me to make myself at home and I've been as unobtrusive as possible, but I think _one_ beer is okay. I can replace it if he wants, just ask Axel to pick one up for me at some point and hand it over. 

...I wonder if I can stop at one anymore. 

Putting that disturbing thought aside, I try to enjoy the quiet up until about nine when someone calls the landline. For a few rings, I debate whether or not I should answer it; after all, this isn't my place... for all I know it's a personal call. Then again, it could be important... work or school-related, maybe... guess I should at least give them the chance to leave a message. 

"Hello?" 

"Riku?" Holy shit. It's Sora. Oh, fuck. 

"Riku, are you there? Uh, hey! I just want to tell you that my birthday party’s in a few days. I keep catching Noah, but I really wanted to give you the invite myself. Just… if you show up, I promise I won’t ask any questions or get mad. It’d be nice to see you, just to know that you’re really--that you’re still in one piece, you know? Anyway, I wish I know what I did to make you leave… or stop talking to me… I’m still here, okay? I’m still here, and I miss you.”

I say nothing, but I let him hang up first. It’s the least I can do.

I'm sorry I won't be seeing you on your birthday, Sora. The best I can do is think of you, a lot. 

\

Zachary comes back home around midnight, after I’ve committed to trying to get some sleep. He's not alone. 

I hear their voices, giddy, low, and mildly buzzed, from my place on the couch, blankets wrapped around my shoulders. My eyes fly open as they stumble in, making their way in the dark.

"Hey," I can hear him say to this mystery girl. "So, a friend's been crashing here for a couple nights. It's no big deal, we should just keep it down." 

"No problem," comes a feminine, slightly more sober voice. 

"...Okay, cool, I think he’s asleep. Sure you rather wouldn’t rather get a motel?" 

"Motels cost money," mystery girl says. "Besides, the risk makes it fun." Zachary does a really poor job of concealing laughter. I should let him know that sometime. 

“Just what I like to hear from a future surgeon,” is his teasing reply.

Maybe it's the alcohol still coursing through my veins or sheer willpower, but I'm pretty sure I'm asleep for real before they even get upstairs. 

I'm not out for long; a loud knock wakes me and I sit up at first, eyeing the front door, wondering if someone just tried to enter the wrong apartment. Then I realize that it was coming from the loft. 

They’re fucking. They’re actually fucking while I’m _right_ _here_.

She's quiet, of course, so it's just him I hear, his pants and sighs and the bed rocking and fuck me why aren't I sleeping at Axel's right now instead of here? They murmur and giggle and move together, and I just try to close my eyes and block it out, and not think about Sora. 

What a time to not have _any_ drugs on me, because I need my mind to be _anywhere_ but here.

\

The morning after is awkward, more on my part than his. Somehow he thinks I don’t know what he was up to last night, what he was doing in a bed we shared 24 hours ago. It’s weird and vaguely creepy, but it’s not like I couldn’t have guessed that he gets laid left, right, and center. Always has. All I do is catch him during dry spells.

All morning he’s _way_ too happy, making little references to his date incessantly until I finally out and ask: “Good date last night?”

“Oh, you know,” he says, shrugging. _Oh my God._

“...Going on a second?” I ask next.

“I don’t know, maybe!”

 _Maybe?! What the fuck is the point if he’s just going to say_ maybe _?!_

I huff in my little corner of the apartment for the remainder of the afternoon, sleep-deprived and irritated and _endlessly_ blowing my nose, which seems to run all the time for no reason. Has since I ran away. Fucking annoying, I’m not even sick. And then there are the random bouts of chills that appear like clockwork anytime I don’t use for a few days, the ones that shake me to my core. Don’t even get me _started_ on those. Fucking bullshit is what it is.

I mope and wander around, stopping for meals, until it’s time for bed. I’d be glad today is over, but then I have to do this again tomorrow. And then it’s school on Monday. What a pain. Death really can’t come fast enough, huh?

Grabbing the blankets, I’m about to settle on the couch when I notice Zachary looming in the stairwell, looking like he wants to talk to me but can’t make up his mind. I’m impatient, woke up this morning in a bad mood, and I’ve been sober far too long. Maybe that’s why my “What is it?” comes across so poorly, enough to make his smile waver for a second.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come upstairs with me tonight,” he says. 

“Upstairs?” I repeat.

“Yeah. No pressure, you look like you’re about to go to sleep, but I thought. You know. If you wanted a bed.”

He’s not honestly _asking_ me to sleep with him. Right? Not after he just brought someone home. He couldn’t be asking me to come up and keep him company in a bed he _just_ fucked in. No one has the audacity… right?

“You clean the sheets?” I shoot back, taking sick pleasure in the way he squirms beneath my pointed glare.

“...I should’ve realized you’d hear us,” he says, letting out a heaving sigh. “I really keep making a mess of things, don’t I?”

Damn his self-deprecation. And the way I fall for it every time, letting the tension diffuse on its own.

“It’s fine,” I mumble. 

“But anyway, the offer’s open. No pressure, like I said. And… uh, yeah. The sheets are clean.”

I snort, then I’m laughing. And he’s laughing too.

Okay, _fine._ But just because sleeping on a loveseat for three weeks straight is bad on my neck and back.

I wait until he’s settling down for the night, his form silhouetted behind the curtain blocking off the loft as he pulls on pajamas and sits on his bed. That’s when I head up.

“Hey--knock, knock,” I call, as if he won’t hear me stomping my clumsy ass his way on these loud, creaky stairs. I pull the curtain open, finding him lying in bed, flipping through a paperback, which he sets down when he sees me. His face lights up.

“Welcome!” Annoyingly, my face reddens a little when he greets me, pushing himself to the left side of the bed and patting the free space next to him. We talk for a few minutes, then settle in next to each other. He switches out the light, and like Sora, he’s out the moment his head touches the pillow.

Like Sora. Fuck.

I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be doing this. This thing that Zachary and I have is going nowhere--we don’t feel that way about each other. We can’t _afford_ to. This whole thing with Zachary is just a replacement for what I’m missing so, so badly, for what I hate myself for losing, for discarding like it was nothing… it’s one thing to get fucked up and crash in the first bed I find, even if Axel’s in it. It’s one thing to take Zachary’s bed because I’m too tired to move-- _once_. It’s an entirely other thing to… to… encourage _this_ , whatever this is. 

So again, I have to leave. I’ll tell Zachary in the morning. With any luck, he’ll just be glad to have me out of his hair.

\

I'm more than happy to pack up and leave Wednesday, the first day of winter break. "You don't have to go," Zachary says as we stand in the doorway, convincing neither of us. "Seriously, I’m happy to have you.” He regards me closely. “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

"No,” I respond with the firm shake of my head. “I've just been here way too long as it is." I shrug, shifting from left foot to right, right foot to left. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"No hard feelings?" Ugh, now there’s a loaded question. Still, I guess I have to take him off my shit list until further notice.

“No hard feelings,” I confirm. He’s beaming, smile brighter than the sun shining overhead. 

"I’m so glad we’ve reached this point,” he tells me. “It always feels so much better to forgive and forget.” _Oh_. That’s going a little far.

I smile, shaking my head. 

"I can't just forget about our past. I'm learning how to forgive, but I think that’s something earned, not given." If Zachary wants to argue semantics, he chooses not to. He just says he’s glad to have earned it and promises he’ll try not to let me down, which is a nice thought. For a lack of anything better to do, I just thank him again. Maybe someday I can make this up to him, this intrusion. Or maybe he’s making things up to _me_. Maybe we’re even now.

Or, maybe we’re just two people, a little fucked up, doing our best.

Yeah, that sounds better.

As I turn to leave, I can feel him smiling at me. 

\

I don't really know where to go from here, but I know I can't face Sora and his father yet, that I don't want to be home for Christmas. So after a long, tiring day of carrying all my shit on my back all over town, I wind up at Axel's. 

The first thing he says when he sees the bag in my hand is, "You are _not_ staying with me." It’s irritating, but not a surprise. Presumptuous people are the worst. 

"I wasn't going to ask," I reply, setting down my duffel bag, ignoring him tell me not to forget it at his place again. And I was _almost_ in a good mood after leaving Zachary’s. “I just want to get high, then I’ll go on my way.”

"You know where everything is," Axel says. My favorite words.

I use the last of my runaway money to bulk up on coke and heroin and, as promised, I’m on my way. It only takes me a few hours to kick myself for my poor decision-making--running away without any cash to get me by for a few days is like playing a video game on hard mode, with potentially deadly results. The version of myself that managed to keep me--and Sora--alive would slug me, the version of myself that exists now. 

I spend a few days and nights wandering around, settling anywhere that seems safe or out of the way, which is harder in a place with a homeless population. With cops crawling around everywhere I go and all public bathrooms closed off to people like me, I can’t shoot up in private.

That puts me into a bit of a situation.

I could leave the city. It’s harder to blend into suburbs and small towns, so I’d be more obvious to police, but I could hide myself away to get high. I would have to be in small towns again. Not desirable. Besides, I like Okeanos.

I could go back to Zachary Noah’s. Nope. Not on the table. I _just_ left. Ridiculous.

I could go back to the Harts’. _Very_ undesirable.

I could crawl into the most secluded little corner I can find, take all of the drugs on me at once to see what will happen. Massively overdose, probably die.

...No. No, that wouldn’t be right. I couldn’t die thinking about what it would do to Sora if my body were found. I didn’t live this long just to turn around and kill myself like so many of my classmates once said I should.

I can’t give up. I have to live.

I have to figure out what I’m going to do, and get my shit together, and really _commit to it_.

So I spend a lot of time over the next couple of days thinking. The major conflict in my life all stems from my drug use. But if I stop, it doesn’t go away: then I have to come back and spend the rest of my life atoning for things I can’t remember saying or doing. Either Sora forgives me or he doesn’t; I don’t think I could live with either. 

And I don’t want to stop. I really, really don’t.

I push down the nagging feeling that tells me the situation might be less that I’m unwilling to stop and more that I couldn’t even if I tried.

\

Four days on the streets and I’m shaking and nauseated and sick again, I want to tear at my skin when I think about the heroin in my bag I can’t privately take and how little I’m beginning to care if I’m caught. But if I go back, I can just go back to my usual routine of waiting until everyone is asleep before doing what I need to do. If I just keep my distance from here out, no one will get hurt anymore.

All roads lead back to Sora. They always do.

I scrounge around for the only change I have, popping quarters and dimes into an old pay phone. By some miracle, it’s not Sora who answers, but his father.

“I left Zachary’s,” I tell him.

“Do you have a place to stay right now?” he asks.

“...No.” 

“Come on home, kiddo.”

\

Mr. Hart opens the door and ushers me inside, welcomes me back, asks me how I am, how Zachary is, if I need help unpacking. Once that's established, before I'm even in the guestroom, he grills me. 

"Sora brought home a progress report Monday." Oh shit, midterms were last month, weren't they? "Do you have one?" 

"Yeah. Up a little from last month. Mostly Cs... one D. It's fixable." And I hand the paper to him to prove it. Good on me for hanging onto it.

He hesitates before finally smiling. "Yeah, it is up, isn't it? Good job." 

In the meantime, I head to my room to unpack without another word. Then it’s into the kitchen to replace the cans of fruit I didn’t get to. It isn’t until I’m on my way back to the room that I spot Sora curled up on the couch. My skin is prickling, throat tight. 

When he looks up at me, his face is stony. Tears are in his eyes. I approach him carefully, towering over him as he stares up at me. He rises slowly. He shoves me, small hands pressed against my chest. Then he hugs me. Then he goes upstairs. He doesn’t utter a word.

\ 

It only takes three days for things to go back to normal, to start feeling normal. Life with Zachary is like a distant dream I'm a little sad I woke up from, but now it's time to go back to feeling alone.

A few days later, on one particularly warm Sunday, Sora's out, so Mr. Hart decides to take advantage of the fact that I have nowhere to go and make good on his promise to buy me some new clothes. Mostly I'm concerned about the fact that this is the longest time we'll have spent together, alone, since... well, since Sora dragged me through the door fifteen months ago. 

The morning starts with an argument at a coffee shop. He wants me to eat. I’m not hungry. Against my wishes, he orders me a hot chamomile tea--message received loud and fucking clear--and a croissant. He tells me I can pick at it over the course of the morning if I want. He gets himself a large black coffee. And then we’re off.

Two hours later, and I wind up with a new but basic wardrobe composed of jeans and long-sleeved shirts. Mr. Hart tries to convince me to get a warmer, more fitted jacket, but for now I'm fine with my roomy old sweatshirts, even if they don't quite warm me up like they used to. 

Mostly it's weird seeing my new body. I don't think I realized how fit I was before until I seemed to lose about twenty pounds all at once. I'd say that I hardly recognize myself, but this is how I looked when I was a kid. Thin, pale. Sickly. Guess it's all full circle with me. 

Guess it doesn't matter. Just lunch now, then this day is over and I can go shoot up in peace.

"You're still using drugs to cope, aren’t you?" he asks as we load into the car, bags in hand, and I literally jump. Mind-reading isn’t real, right? “Riku? Can you be honest with me?”

I let out a long, measured breath. Well, here it comes. In truth, I could tell all day that he was waiting for the right time to broach this subject. Guess it was smart of him to choose now, now that I can't just up and leave or dive into a store or bathroom to avoid him. Not that I'm afraid of this subject, it's just well-tread territory. And his whole "pretend to be casual" thing is obvious, and irritating. Drugs to _cope_. Fucking presumptuous. I don’t know if he’s wrong, but still. Presumptuous.

"Yup. Still using." God, I want to get off this subject. But I'm ready to fight if I have to.

"Hm.” He doesn’t continue, just leaves it there. In fact, we don’t speak anymore until we get to the restaurant, some impossibly trendy brunch place with an oceanside view. 

The introduction of _that_ topic sends my mind on a spiral. I should’ve slipped out early and got fucked up before today even started. Damn it. "You all right, Riku? You seem a little jumpy. Have been for… quite a few months now." 

Now he notices? _Now_ he cares? 

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm okay." 

His sigh is a little heavier, more exasperated, than what I'm used to. Which is really saying something, since I'm pretty sure I'm solely responsible for the gray hairs beginning to grow on his head. 

"Riku," he insists. "What's going on?" 

I shake my head, suddenly finding myself smiling. He nods like he understands, then changes the subject. 

"Can you believe that winter break is almost done already?" 

"Yeah." Sure. Why not. 

"I'm glad your grades improved a little at the end there. I was getting a little worried, to be honest. You'll need to keep it up, see if you can finish out with B's for your college transcript. You only have a month to start filling out applications." College. That word doesn't seem to excite or exhilarate me at all anymore. Eighteen used to feel so freeing. Now I have trouble envisioning a world in which I live to see it. “Do you have any idea of where you’d like to go?” I shake my head. “How about a major? No rush, of course. I just want you to find something you enjoy and really commit to it." 

"I think it's best if I don't commit to anything," I say. I mean it as a joke, I think, but it doesn't come out that way. 

"I noticed," Mr. Hart says pointedly. Again I find myself shifting uncomfortably. "I wish you'd let me help you figure things out. I wish you’d let me help you with _anything_.” 

“Anything,” I repeat. I could roll my eyes. Just barely avoid it, in fact. “You think I’m a mess.” He sighs heavily, his head lolling back for a moment like he just can’t deal with me right now. The feeling’s mutual.

“I think you have a lot of growing up to do,” he corrects me. Then he starts ticking thoughts off, one by one. “I think you’re going through a hard time and self-medicating instead of coming to the people who care about you for help. I think you’re young and making risky decisions because you don’t know any better. I think there are a lot of factors in your life that have led you to this point, and quite frankly to end your high school career on a low note and burn out on drugs and alcohol is a waste of your mind and talents.” A waste?! Because I don’t _know_ \--

“What exactly do you think you know about me?” I shoot back. His slightly challenging look reminds me of Sora, firm gaze unwavering.

“You were seriously hurt by someone, likely spanning over a long period of time. Most likely male; someone older in the family. Maybe a father, maybe an uncle, stepfather, or grandfather.” _That_ shuts me up. “You shy away if you even think I’m going to touch you,” he explains. “But you don’t seem to have the same reservations around Sandy. I’d say it’s likely that you were punished physically for small infractions, but I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that you were verbally berated, belittled, or controlled. Maybe even humiliated. Maybe someone decided you were too emotional or opinionated, so you clammed up to protect yourself. You have problems with authority figures and oscillate between submission and rebellion, but I don’t know what makes you flip from one to the other. I think it might be anger.” 

My teeth are grinding, my hands balled into fists. I’m breathing hard, this close to fazing out. 

“You may have also witnessed other people getting hurt... a parent or sibling, maybe someone female, younger, or smaller than you. So you step in and take the blame for things you didn’t do in the hope that they’ll be spared and you can take their punishment. Maybe you feel like you deserve it more, or maybe protecting other people gives you a sense of self-worth. Addiction likely runs in your family. Potentially mental illness too, but then, the two frequently go hand-in-hand. Am I getting close?”

I bristle, a retort in my mouth that doesn’t have the time to escape. Catching my expression, Mr. Hart lifts his hands in surrender, seeming to remember himself.

“...That was inappropriate of me to say,” he says. “I’m sorry, I was out of line.” 

I should lie, tell him he’s wrong. That he knows nothing and should stop assuming things about me. That I’m not his family or his project and he’s not going to fix me. I should be angry.

"I was abused," I blurt out instead. I sink back into my seat, staring at the ground, trying to act like I didn't say anything as a waiter comes to set our drinks down, then goes to take our order. Mr. Hart tells him we need more time. I haven’t even looked at the menu. I pick it up and thumb through without reading, unable to concentrate with his eyes on me. "Yeah... I was abused." I shrug helplessly. "Had to get out." 

"I'm sorry you had to experience that, Riku," he says evenly. "I just hope you realize that it isn't your fault." I nod slowly, leaning forward again, enough to take a sip from my green tea. "Riku, you don't have to tell me anything, but I’m here to listen if you need to talk things through. Or even just to vent." _Vent_. Wow. How do you _vent_ about a decade of abuse?

"Look, this is... kind of a long story." 

"I have all the time in the world, Riku." He would say that, wouldn’t he? He really thinks he’s got it all fucking figured out. My mind whirrs through his guesses and assumptions, all so nice and streamlined when he lays them out the way he did.

“...The thing you need to keep in mind is that my parents had me when they were barely my age. They didn’t have any help, and they didn’t know what they were doing. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mr. Hart says, like it’s simple. Like it’s all so simple.

“I was born in this small, shit town in the middle of nowhere. When I was three, my parents had to give me up… couldn’t afford to take care of me, I think, so they took me over to my mom’s family and I didn’t see them again for years.”

“What were your grandparents like?” he asks. I shrug.

“I don’t remember.”

The waiter circles back for our orders. I don’t even remember what I say moments after I’ve said it. Lunch is going to be a surprise today, I guess.

“Old,” I correct myself. “Probably too old to be raising a three-year-old or whatever I was. A neighbor called CPS at some point, then I got sent off to live with my aunt… my dad’s family was never on the table for some reason. I don’t know why.”

“Did you and your aunt get along?”

I snort. “No.” I wait until our drinks have been refilled by our server to say another word. “She was enthusiastic about taking me in, then once she was stuck with me she seemed to realize her mistake.”

“Was it just the two of you?” Mr. Hart asks, taking a drink from his coffee. I shake my head stiffly.

“Us, her husband, and my cousin, who… I actually think was a friend’s kid she was taking care of for a while. I think she assumed that I was going to be this perfect kid who would love her and make her feel great all the time, but I was quiet and reserved, even when I was little. She really didn’t know what to do with me.” Mr. Hart shakes his head in return.

“Some people choose to have children because they’re looking to fill a void. That’s a great reason to get a pet… not so much to take in a little human.”

“Must’ve been a big void,” I respond. He asks me about my cousin; I tell him that we got along well. And then there was my uncle. “He was in charge of disciplining us if we misbehaved, and a few nights a week he’d say prayers before dinner. That was about the extent of his role in my life.” Mr. Hart asks something about friends that I don’t quite hear over the sudden squawk of a gull. I shake my head. “They put us in parochial school, then pulled us out just as fast. My cousin had a learning disability, and I think I just asked too many questions. So, homeschooling for us.”

“Parochial school,” Mr. Hart repeats. “Good times.” I glance up at him, waiting to respond as our server sets down a cup in front of each of us and a large bowl of soup in the center of the table. “K through twelve,” he confirms. “And my knuckles will never be the same.” He mimes a familiar motion, a ruler coming down hard. “I count myself fortunate for going to one in this area, so I think it was a little more progressive than some. Good thing, because I was always getting into trouble.” 

I perk up at the word. “Trouble?” I repeat. “ _You?_ ” He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I used to skip my last period of the day at least once a month to go to the beach. When I’d get into trouble, I’d ask why God would make beaches if I couldn’t enjoy them. Never worked.” Oh fuck me, I’m smiling, laughing a little as I start working on my soup in preparation for our rapidly-arriving main courses. “Were you homeschooled up until recently, then?” Mr. Hart asks, digging into his roast right away. I’m a little slower to start on my open-faced sandwich. Right, I remember asking for this now.

“No, just for a few years. My aunt was… strict.” A tyrant, I correct myself then, finding myself telling him about the years of neglect, the passive aggression, the overly high expectations, food or water withheld for uncomfortable--though not dangerous--amounts of time. “That’s the first time I ever ran away, to get out of that house. I was eleven.”

“Where did you go?”

“My goal was to find my parents… which is where I should have been placed to start with. I don’t know why they sent me to extended family when my parents were forty-five minutes away.”

Mr. Hart shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s a really tricky system,” he says. “I was a social worker for a number of years. The field is underfunded, understaffed, high stress… unfortunately that creates a significant margin of error. Just one instance of poor judgement, or an error in the paperwork can have lifelong repercussions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent you to the first relative they could find and called it a day so they could get onto helping another abused or neglected child. It’s a tragedy.” 

I swallow hard, eating so I don’t have to concentrate solely on the idea that some of the worst years of my life were due to someone’s fuckup. I’ve always felt like if I had just gotten _back_ to my parents sooner, it would have solved things. I don’t know why. Just some dumb gut feeling, I guess. 

“...Anyway,” I continue. “I hopped on a bus and took the route that would get me to the town my parents lived in, then searched on foot until I found the right house. Wasn’t hard--it was a small town.” Even now I can feel it, a little, when I think back to it. The anxiety, the excitement. I had no idea what was coming. 

Sometimes watching Sora was agonizing, back when we were runaways. The closer we got, the more I feared for him. What would happen if his father took him out of obligation and not love; what would happen if he’d been turned away. God, he deserved this outcome. If only Sora or myself could be happy, truly happy, I would choose him every single time.

Mr. Hart doesn’t need to ask what happened next; he knows it’s bad. I tell him anyway.

“So I turn up at my parent’s doorstep and my mom is… over the moon. She’s so, so excited, and we spend the afternoon together waiting for my dad to get home from work and he just…” I close my eyes, finding Mr. Hart looking over at me when I open them again. “No reaction. None whatsoever. In hindsight, I want to think he was in shock and didn’t really know how to react. He was always… pretty subdued.”

“They had no idea you were going to show up?” 

I shake my head. “S’not like I could just call them up. They thought they’d never see me again. I thought things would get better as I settled in, but they never did.” With a sickness in my stomach, I tell him about Nathan’s aloofness, how his distance turned to ugly over the course of our time together. The drunken beatings. The sober ones, too, though those were few and far between. 

Mr. Hart asks about school, and I admit begrudgingly that they put me into the local elementary school, then all about the social rejection I faced from day _one_ , and how _that_ escalated into outright bullying by middle school and only got worse as the years passed. It’s a decent segue into giving him the full, ugly picture of what Darry _was_.

I tell him how people in town saw my father as a success story--a fuckup-turned-respectable member of society, a delinquent teen who settled down with his family and built himself from the ground up. How they hated my mother, blamed her and her alone for my existence after enough time passed. They called her crazy. I tell Mr. Hart that she stopped leaving the house, that she would lock herself in her bedroom for hours. But _Nathan_. Nathan was charming and attractive, so he could make it work. The ins and outs of Darry’s oppressive culture. _Act this way, speak this way, look this way, like these things and spend your time like this, worship here. Or we’ll eat you alive._ Repugnant. Utterly disgusting.

"It sounds awful, Riku. I can't imagine a place worse for you." 

"There isn't one." Again we fall into silence. 

"I grew up here," Mr. Hart says, suddenly. "I loved going to the beach, surfing, sailing... it was so freeing. So when I moved to the suburb where I met Karen and we later had Sora... I know exactly what you're saying. There's nothing there that stimulates or moves you anymore. You start feeling like there's no escape. It's a big part of why I came back." Quickly he adds, "I never felt that way because of Sora. I don't want to sound like I believe I did the right thing. There were a million more responsible ways to do what I did… I regret missing so many years with him. Every single day, I’m sorry." Yeah, maybe that’s the number one thing we have in common. Sora deserves better than us both. God. It’s so fucked up.

I happen to glance up again just as a different waiter comes around to refill our drinks, and he's got silver-blue hair falling over just one eye; I recognize him instantly as one of Axel's friends. No questioning it. Oh... oh shit. _Shit._

He's one of the guys I always see out at the club. 

Damn it. Please, please don't let him recognize me, don't let him say anything to Mr. Hart... 

"Anything else?" Mr. Hart asks me. He's so oblivious. How can he be so oblivious? 

"I'm good," I reply casually, feeling like I'm going to throw up or keel over. 

It's Axel's friend who returns with the check, and when Mr. Hart pulls out his credit card without even a second look, I don't miss the snarky, carrying murmur, caught by my ears as if by accident as he takes the check and card and walks off once more. 

"First drinks, now lunch dates? Some boys have all the luck, I suppose." 

I'm bright red. That's not fair. 

I have to get away from him. From this. Fuck it all. 

I stand so quickly that my chair almost falls backward and storm out, feeling humiliated and childish beyond belief. I don’t care. I just have to get out of here.

"Riku!" Mr. Hart shouts, trailing behind me. I wait by the car until he unlocks it with the single press of a button, yank the door open, and all but throw myself inside. Mr. Hart follows, a little slower, taking his driver's side seat and shutting the door, enclosing us together in this private space. "What's wrong? What happened?" 

"Nothing,” I tell him. “I'm fine." He's not buying it. I'd be disappointed if he did. 

"It was that waiter, wasn't it?" 

"How did you know?" I ask, shifting uncomfortably. 

"Riku, I saw your face when he was walking up." 

"Oh." I guess that'd do it, wouldn't it? "Yeah... he's just some guy I know. Just some jerk." 

"From school?" 

"No." 

Now he catches the subtext, and his sigh is heavy, old. 

"Riku...." 

"I know it's bad, okay?" I snap, shooting from flight to fight in less than a second. My harshness visibly takes him aback, and when I muster the courage to glance over, he's not quite looking at me anymore. I shake my head as if to shake off the embarrassment. 

"Sorry," I mutter. 

"Apology accepted." We sit in silence for a long time, waiting all the way until he speeds onto the freeway before another word is spoken between us. "Do you want to finish what you were telling me about before?" …Well, I got this far. Might as well. I nod stiffly. _Sure_. "You said your mom stopped leaving the house?" 

"Oh... yeah, I did, didn't I... She had panic attacks. Bad ones. I think at some point she decided it would be best to just... stay put. She was still a good mom." I wait for his assumptions, his accusations. None come. For some reason, some intense surge of frustration swells up in my chest--I need to him to give me something that he isn’t giving me. I need to fight with him, I’m so open and so vulnerable, I need… I need him to distrust me, I need him to hurt me. It’s the only thing I know.

If this won't scare him off, nothing will. 

"I had a nervous breakdown when I was thirteen. I made a scene during a passing period at school, ended up in the hospital with injuries. Then had to stay for my mental health." Mr. Hart just nods, and his calm acceptance pisses me off. "In the psych ward,” I clarify. He nods again. “I was _institutionalized_. Don't you get it? I'm--" 

"I understand," he says. "And Riku, it's okay." 

It's okay, he says. How can he say that with a straight face? 

No... he isn't surprised, is he? I bark a laugh because I can't believe a word from his mouth and if I don't laugh I'll cry and there's not a chance in hell that I'm crying, especially not in front of him. 

"No, it isn't. It's not okay." 

Once we reach the driveway, I jump out of the car before he puts it into park, waiting impatiently for him to let us in. I barricade myself in my room, the reality of what I’ve been willingly giving up setting in. I search my drawers for drugs, finding only a half a dose of cocaine and there’s no way I can afford to be all hopped up right now, not with my mind racing as it is. Did I really go through _all_ of my heroin in just a few days?

How the hell am I still alive?

Great. Fucking great. That was the last of my money, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to get more from anyone in this family. 

Fuck.

\ 

Dinner is quiet. Sora’s been with his friends more often than not lately, and tonight’s no exception. I miss him, but I’m also the one who drove him away, so there you go. That leaves me to play house with Mr. Hart, saddled in the role of _good son_ while his actual good son is away for the night. I set the table, I shake and sniffle and miss heroin even more. God, I feel like _shit_.

“...Riku?” Mr. Hart asks after a solid several minutes of watching me pick at my food. “Would you mind telling me what happened after you were released from the hospital? You don’t have to, of course.”

I snort. “What happened is that nothing changed. My father was still himself. Kids at school kept their distance for about a week and then they went back to treating me like _shit_ the same way they had before.” I shake my head. “It was the beginning of the end, is all. My breakdown, meeting Zachary only for him to drop me like I never meant anything and find out that he only ever approached me as a fucking joke. And then I fought with my mom. We _never_ fought. She and Nathan--my dad-- while _everything_ was going on… they were starting to talk about having more kids. _More kids_ , while he was an alcoholic and she could barely leave the house--I told her it was stupid, that it wouldn’t _fix_ anything, and we got into it--I was just _so mad_. How was she going to protect a baby if she wouldn’t protect me? _Couldn’t_ ,” I correct myself, mortified by my slip-up. I swallow hard, unable to stop.

“And if they did, and they had another kid, and it all turned out fine… that would almost be worse, if my dad could sobered up for a new baby but not for me. I said something like that, then--something else. I don’t remember. It was stupid and mean, like maybe we needed to make sure Nathan didn’t already have kids with other women in town first. And then she hit me. Mom hit me. She’d never laid a finger on me before, ever." I swallow hard, trying desperately not to relive that fight. That fucking fight. “So she hit me, and she apologized and everything, and I stopped talking to her. Then things with Zachary went bad and I left. I don’t remember if we made up, Mom and I.” 

"I'm sure she understood," Mr. Hart says delicately. I hope so. “The timing was unfortunate, but I know she realizes you were just upset. Is that when you ran away again?” I nod, thankful for the subject change, more or less.

"I left in February 2000,” I confirm. “I knew that the only way to find something better was to look for it myself." 

"I'm glad that was your exit strategy. Rather than... the alternative." I flush a little, flattered but embarrassed. 

"I thought about it," I say in a near-whisper. We make eye contact for a second, then I'm back to my food. "Running away is hard," I say a little unnecessarily once I get the courage to let him know just how fucked up I got out on the streets. Although I'm beginning to think he's really okay with me. "But I did what I could do get by. Shoplifted, pickpocketed, whatever. I just didn't beg, and I didn't do favors. Of any kind. There was a line I didn’t cross. That was it." Mr. Hart’s mouth is open for a moment before he voices his thought, giving me the ominous impression that he’s trying to avoid upsetting me.

"Have you stolen since you've been living here?" he asks.

"No!” I’m _almost_ offended. No, fuck it, I’m offended. “It wasn't for fun, it was for survival. I don't do illegal things." Mr. Hart gives me this cocked-head, squinty-eyed look, exaggeratedly confused.

"What do you mean you never do anything illegal? You consume alcohol underage, not to mention the drugs.” Oh… right. “Can I ask if you've ever sold drugs?" I shake my head.

"Never. I'm around deals when they happen sometimes, but I'm not a participant. I don't do illegal things for no reason, is that I mean."

He doesn't ask my reason for buying drugs. I don't think he needs to; I think I'm telling him right now.

"Anyway, that’s not the worst part. The stealing I mean. I... think I kind of joined a gang. When I was fifteen, maybe late fourteen. I just... it felt good to belong for the first time in my life. We took care of each other, and I got really close to one of the men. He took it really bad when I up and left.” I shake the thought from my head. He would’ve killed me if Sora hadn’t intervened. He would have killed Sora had I not intervened. Cyclical. And so, so wrong. "But I found Sora after that so it's okay." 

"You saved his life," is Mr. Hart’s overly-kind interpretation. 

"No." 

"You scared off his attackers, took care of him, and let him come with you. You saved him." 

"...Did Sora tell you that?" I ask wearily. He nods. "Well, he really romanticized the hell out of it. Anyway, now I'm here." 

_Here_. That can mean a lot of different things. 

Mr. Hart puts his hand over mine and squeezes, but he doesn't say a word and he doesn't try to hug me or anything like that. We just segue back into small talk, then clean up and head to bed.

I'd planned to take a shower but the second I get into the guest room the exhaustion hits me full blast, so I crawl under the covers and sleep. It's been a long day. For a long time. 

\

I last about an hour, then my eyes pop open and I can’t get them to shut so I can fall back asleep. It takes a moment, but I realize that there’s something rotten in my gut, something that isn’t sitting right. I whip the covers off my body and work my way out of the room, upstairs, silently relieved to find Mr. Hart’s light on. I knock, opening the door and looming in the doorway when I hear his permission to enter.

“Riku!” He doesn’t shield his surprise to see me. I don’t think I’ve ever stepped foot in his room once, ever. Why would I? “Is everything okay?”

"I'm fine. Just... couldn't fall asleep." 

"If you need to..." he starts before changing his mind. "Do you want me to stay up with you?" 

"No," I say. "It's fine." But then something... happens. Inside me, I mean. In my head. Or my heart, maybe, as cheesy as it sounds. "Yeah, actually...would you?" He just smiles and nods and we head to the couch downstairs for a late-night movie.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

“About my parents. I didn’t mean to… to make it sound like they’re bad people. My dad took care of me. I always had like, clean clothes that fit and food and everything. And my mom… I think she was scared to rock the boat. She had hard choices to make, she couldn’t do it all. I think it was easier for all of us if she just… didn’t intervene too much.”

“I don’t think they’re bad people,” Mr. Hart responds softly. “I think they were young and led difficult lives with no guidance or support. It sounds to me like your mother loved you a lot and did the best she could.” I could cry. Yes. _Exactly_ , that’s the _exact_ thing I’ve been trying to convey to people for so long now. "And as for _you._ ” I hate to admit it, but I start a little. “You should give yourself more credit.” I glance over at him, thoroughly confused. “You’ve been through more in seventeen years than some people do in their entire lives. Don’t think I don’t see that.”

I frown, staring back at the screen as the credits finish up, thinking hard about everything I said today, about Mr. Hart's reactions to me, and about how, no matter what choice I make, it always seems to hurt _someone._

Once Nathan said to me that if I left, I was never welcome back. His door was closed to me for good.

I knew what I was doing when I ran away. I made my choice. 

I think running away from Darry is probably the best decision I ever made. But at whose expense? At what point do my choices not become about me anymore? 

"...And for the record, Riku, I'm very, very glad you're alive and here with us." 

I want to tell him that I am too, really, but no words come out of me. 

The two of us sit in silence as my eyes get heavier and heavier, comforted by his presence. 

And yeah, I feel childish-- I'm seventeen for fuck's sake-- but some part of me that I thought long dead feels safe, secure, wanted. 

It isn't so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH I almost forgot--I'm on Twitter now as Heartspocky, so feel free to send a follow request. My account is private to avoid Discourse (tm), but if I see an invite I'll accept it. I basically just talk about fanfiction and replaying KH haha


	33. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku makes an announcement; Sora deals with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More new tags, btw.

I spend my last day of winter break dozing on a hammock Dad and I put outside sometime after my birthday. January is a little cooler than usual this year, but I like bundling up in sweats and blankets and breathing in that cold, salty air as I fall in and out of sleep.

"...Hey," Riku says. I jolt back awake, my limbs all flailing out as if to catch me from falling. Shit, I did _not_ know he was there. 

"Hey," I mumble, regaining my balance and trying to regain some semblance of dignity too, while I’m at it. I'm irrationally mad at him for surprising me, even though he really hasn't done anything wrong. Except that he’s clearly high, his eyes all distant and foggy. Consider my hackles raised. 

"Can I...?" he starts, motioning to the empty space on my hammock. 

"No room," I tell him, not even tripping over my obvious lie. I don't want to be a total ass to him or anything, but... I sort of want him to leave me alone. Nothing’s been fixed now that he’s back, and all I want is to keep moving forward. He can’t just leave, come back, make no effort to patch things up, then expect me to act like I’m still his boyfriend whenever he gets high or lonely. I held on as long as I could. "Sorry." 

He doesn't reply but just stands there for a little while, like he's hesitating. 

"Sora?" he asks, finally. 

"Huh?" 

My eyes follow the movement of his hands as he places one on each of my shoulders. He dips in for the kiss quickly, so quickly I haven’t processed his lips against mine until he’s backed away.

The feel of him watching makes me self-conscious, like I can't help but to overanalyze every move I make, from the way I shift my weight so I can get more comfortable to whether or not I'm blinking too much. Then he turns away, and I can breathe again. 

I hear the sound of grass crushing under his shoes, but I don't turn to watch him leave. I'm sick of doing _that_. 

*

The second week of February brings finals, so we have seven days to be ready. I spend long hours in study groups and looking over Kairi and Roxas’ final essays while they look at mine. I put off all this work _way_ too long, but at least I’m not alone in my chronic procrastination.

"I don't know about you," Roxas says, leaning back in his chair. He pauses as the librarian passes by. "...but I'm nowhere near done." 

"I can't find an eighth source for my paper," Kairi replies, frowning a little. 

"Eight?" Roxas repeats incredulously. "Sora and I only need five." 

Kairi's frown intensifies. 

"I need to go home soon," she says. "If you want, you guys can come over tonight after we all eat so we can work on these a little more."

"Misery loves company," I pitch in, speaking up for the first time in a while. "Sounds good to me! Roxas?" 

"Yeah, I'll be there." 

We give it another forty-five minutes, then call it a night--for now.

*

"I'm going out tonight," I tell Dad as we sit down for dinner. "Not for long, though. I'm gonna be at Kairi's with Roxas. We all have papers due, so we're gonna suffer together." 

"Guess I'll have the house to myself tonight, then," Dad says. "I'll try not to go too wild!" 

Riku mutters something from the other end of the table. When it becomes clear to him that we have no idea what he's just said, he repeats himself. 

"No, I'm around tonight,” he says. 

"...Oh," Dad says. “Well, that’ll be a nice change of pace. Studying?” Riku nods, hoisting his elbow onto the table to cradle his face while he picks at his food without eating.

“I actually don’t think I’m going to be going out for a while.”

“Why’s that?” 

Riku's voice drops again, like he doesn't want to be talking, but his words are clear, concise. 

"I just don’t really have a reason to keep seeing them." I tune into the conversation fully for the first time, watching Riku more closely. I wonder if something bad happened? “I’m quitting.”

I choke on my latest forkful of food, taking a long drink of water so I don’t cough through what happens next. Dad is silent, maybe just as stunned as I am. Riku seems uncomfortable with eyes on him, but it doesn’t stop him from confirming it again. “...I figured it made the most sense to just. Cut things off entirely. So… I guess I’m around for the foreseeable future.”

“Quitting?” I repeat. My lips move, but no sound actually comes out. I look over at Dad, trying to gauge his reaction: a long, deep exhale, his eyebrows raised high on his head. Then he lurches forward and throws an arm over Riku’s shoulders, tousling his hair. 

I don’t remember springing out of my seat or rushing over to wrap him in a giant hug, all the sudden I’m just _here_ , Riku squirming a little between us, his face bright red when we pull away. I think I’m crying. I take a heaving, shaking breath, and… yeah, definitely crying. Riku pulls an arm around my waist when he sees, offering me a quiet, “It’s okay.” I know it is. It _finally_ is. I’m just so, so happy. It already feels like Riku’s _here_ , he’s _back._ I just hope he really, really means it.

Needless to say, I cancel my study plans with Kairi and Roxas. 

After we’ve eaten, Riku sets up his school supplies on the table while I flip through note cards on the couch. I keep looking up and staring at him--I can’t seem to stop. My joy outweighs the reservations I should have, the knowledge that we haven’t established anything about the state of our relationship. Still, I look at him and think, that’s _my_ Riku, sitting right there. 

Together again.

I relocate to the table to finish typing up my essay on the laptop Dad got me for Christmas. Across from me, Riku extends a marked-up arm, yellowed with healing bruises, his fingers extended. Pushing my chair in with my feet firm on the ground, I reach across and take his hand.

"I love you," I find myself telling him, testing it out. It still feels good. Feels _right_. 

"I love you, too," Riku responds without a moment of hesitation. It feels even better hearing it said to me. For the first time. "Hey, I'm getting tired. Where should I go?" 

"Hm?"

"Bed,” he clarifies, giving my fingers a quick squeeze in return before letting go and standing, the chair sliding back behind him. “Where am I going?" His eyes meet mine in some sort of meaningful look that causes the couple telepathy to kick back in. 

"Oh!” I respond, face reddening. “Um, upstairs. You can... you can sleep in my bed. If you want." 

The smile Riku gives me for that is exhausted, but grateful. It warms me from the inside out as I watch him dip into the guest room for his pajamas and bathroom supplies to bring with him. 

I have another few days to finish my paper and I’m pretty happy with what I’ve gotten done today, so I follow him up, far enough behind to go unnoticed as I walk upstairs and enter the bedroom.

"Hey," Riku says a little too brightly for me to believe, like he’s majorly compensating for something. "Could you close the door behind you? Thanks." I do, giving it a little push so that it clicks into place. Man, when's the last time the two of us were in my room together, just the two of us? When’s the last time we’ve been a room together, period? 

Riku's occupied with unmaking the bed so I strip down and change into my pajamas. I can’t help but keep watching him, as if I’ll be able to pick out answers in his body language. But even I can’t do that, so all I can really do is talk to him.

“This is really happening,” I say. “Right? I mean… you’re doing this. For real.” He glances back at me, just for a second.

“Yeah.”

I want to ask him a thousand questions, and there are a thousand things we need to air out. But the most important… I can’t sleep next to him tonight without clearing this one thing up.

“What’s going on with us?” I ask, licking my lips anxiously, then biting down. A little too hard, actually. Ouch…“Are we getting back together? I think that’s what’s going on here, but… I really don’t know anymore.” 

Though he tries to play it off cool, I can see the hint of panic on his face. “Oh. Yeah. Do you… not want to?”

“No, no way--no, I mean yes, I _definitely_ want to be back together.” My stammering doesn’t seem to soothe his worry.

“...yeah?”

"Yeah! I’m just wondering... is there anything I should know first?” I look up at him expectantly; Riku’s jaw sets.

"I don’t know…” he says. “I'm kind of tired." 

Okay, fine. I’ll start. I'm not trying to be stubborn, I just don't want any curve balls thrown my way, no ex-lovers or big secrets or whatever else while we're trying to pick up our lives again. 

"I dated while you were gone," I tell him. “Kind of a lot.” He nods like he’s not totally surprised, looking me up and down until I blush.

"Okay,” he responds. “I wouldn't have expected you to just… yeah, alright. Really. It's okay." 

“Nothing was ever serious. Just… a lot of dinners and movies. Oh, and kissing, but nothing more than that.” I shrug, feeling like I’ve successfully aired out my not-so-dirty laundry. “That’s all I got.”

“I… this is really sudden, Sora. I don’t really know what you’re looking for,” Riku sighs. Okay, time to give him a starting point.

“Were you and Zachary together at any point?” I ask gently. “I won’t be mad if you were or anything, I just… I really need to know.” I need to know what my competition looks, aside from _tall_. And really, really nice. And pre-med. But why have all of that when you can have a short, scrawny, idiot who can’t mind his own business instead? Right?

“We were _never_ together that way, Sora.” I wish he’d look at me… why isn’t he? Why can’t he look me in the face? “We slept in the same bed.” He sounds agonized when he says it, meeting my eyes barely, like he just hates himself. “Twice.” I shake my head, brows furrowed as I try to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Did you... do anything together?” Luckily he catches on faster to my line of questioning. Having to verbalize my actual question--did you have sex with him?--would make me sick for too many reasons to list.

“Slept?” he says, shrugging helplessly. “We just slept. Nothing else.”

“...Have you ever kissed?” He shakes his head. 

“No. Sora. We _really_ don’t feel that way about each other.”

If I didn’t have first-hand experience watching Riku cluelessly bumble through interactions with people flirting with him openly and obviously, maybe I’d suspect him of lying. As it is, I’m just amazed that he doesn’t see how Zachary feels about him. Maybe living together made Zachary realize that he should see Riku as a friend, a brother at closest. More likely, Riku’s just oblivious.

Still, I’m only half-assured. I remember a dancer at a club. _They’re always macking on each other._

“Did you kiss anyone else?” I ask. “Or even just flirt, or… anything?”

He thinks hard, maybe trying to recall. If he was drunk or high out in public, I wonder how much awareness or active control he had over his actions. I wonder how many people he encountered who would be willing to take advantage of someone young, hot, and effectively helpless. Sick. People can be so...

“...No,” Riku says after an extra beat. “There was no one. I’d go out--to bars or… to clubs… they were always small and loud. You had to be close to… to talk, or whatever. Everyone’s on something, no one’s paying attention to boundaries. I tried not to ever let anything go too far but I was very rarely mentally there.”

“But no sex, right?” I press. “Again… it’s okay if you did. I just want to know.” He looks uncomfortable at my line of questioning.

“Definitely not that I know of… and I really think I’d know. I mean, I’d have to. Right?”

“Yeah. I think you’d know, too.” The idea of Riku any sort of physical encounter while high still sits wrong, and I still feel like there’s… something else. Something he’s not telling me. But for now, what he’s given me is okay. I’m going to need a lot of time to think about it regardless, but, selfishly… I’m relieved there’s a chance we can lose our virginity together. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really want to have that experience with him; it’s important to me. 

With that out of the way, it’s onto the next. 

“When was the last time you were high?” I ask. This time he doesn’t hesitate.

“Three days ago.”

“Is that when you quit?” 

Riku shakes his head. “No, that’s just the last day I had anything on me. I’ve… kind of been thinking about it for a while. I let my friend know I’m not coming around anymore yesterday, so. It’s done.”

“How’d they take it?”

He shrugs. “...He took it. Didn’t seem surprised. I think I was pretty unhappy for awhile.”

Unhappy for a while. I let those words roll around in my head. Almost a year he’s been on drugs, stubbornly insisting that he knows what he’s doing and that he doesn’t need or want help. All of the same shit, over and over. At what point did he realize it really _wasn’t_ making his life better? And what made him finally admit it to himself?

“What made you stop?” I ask, hoping that pretty much sums everything up, all this confusion in me.

“It was the only thing that made sense,” he replies, shrugging helplessly. “I missed you. I couldn’t ignore what it was doing anymore, and I knew that the longer things went on, the worse they’d get. The more I’d hurt everyone.” I swallow hard, not realizing how badly I wanted to hear _exactly_ that.

“You missed me?”

He nods, running his thin fingers through limp silver hair.

“Yeah.” He’s sighing, then he’s rubbing his temple before facing me again. “You found out before I could tell you, then you started pulling away, so I started pulling away… it just didn’t end. Or. It _was_ ending. I thought maybe if I stopped, things would go back to the way they were.”

“The way they were,” I repeat, which Riku seems to take as a cue.

“The last time I was happy.”

Tears spring to my eyes, but I blink them back. He was _happy_ with me. A part of me knew, but. It’s just nice to _hear_. The rest… not so much.

“...I didn’t mean to pull away, I just--” I’m tripping over my words, desperate to make him understand. “It was a lot to handle. I didn’t know what else to do, I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I thought…” he starts, but shakes his head. “I don’t know what I thought.” I join him as he finally takes a seat on the bed, my hand on his back.

“Hey, can I ask you something else?” 

Riku glances at the clock on the bedside table. “...Sure.”

I want to ask him what I did wrong, what I could have done differently. But… I can’t. I’m too overwhelmed, so I skip to the bottom of my list.

“Are you okay? Where’s your head right now--how do you feel about quitting? Honestly.”

“...Positively,” is the word Riku decides on. “Optimistic. I know I’m making the right choice. But I also know it’s going to be hard.” I’m a second away from promising I’m going to be here for him, me and Dad and our friends, if he wants, but then Riku says maybe the most truthful, candid thing than he’s said in almost a year: “I’m afraid.”

“Of quitting?” I ask, sliding my hand over his and clamping down.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be.”

He chuckles.

“Okay.” 

*

The following morning is marked by slow, soft kisses and the return of little inside jokes we’d almost forgotten about. When Riku hops into the shower, I call to him from the bed, asking if he missed sleeping with me, the way I’ve missed sleeping with him. Over the sound of running water, an emphatic “ _Yes!_ ” follows, making me happy like I’ve never been happy before.

Unfortunately, that's the last easy moment we have for the week. 

Withdrawal is being really, really unkind to Riku: he itches like crazy and has these weird symptoms like he’s coming down with a cold, and he's always tired but he can't get any sleep. And forget about being able to keep food down. I swear he has to leave the dinner table early, pale and shaking, every other night. He actually tells me one night, shaken and near tears, that he needs to move back downstairs for a few nights while the worst of it passes. I totally get it--no hurt feelings here. 

He's moody a lot, too, but at least I’m used to that. And anyway, his self control is back in action so he’s not constantly stepping out of line. If he ever says something to me that’s nasty or rotten he’ll back down and apologize, and even those instances are few and far between. I'll see it in his eyes some days, that he's tired and stressed and struggling, and on those days every time he meets my little annoying habits with a smile or no response at all is a victory for both of us. He’s trying again, and that’s the main thing.

He and Dad are working hard to make this as easy as possible on him. They have a lot of doctor appointments scheduled and a lot of long talks during the evening, strategizing how to get Riku weaned off safely, how to get him back up to speed in school, how to get a better handle on the feelings that are driving him to do so many terrible things. Riku’s line in the sand is clear: no rehab, no hospitals. He wants to do this here, at home, by himself--but knowing that we’re here to help, and promising to rely on us when he needs to. And to take his _damn_ meds to help with the aches and pains and nausea so he isn’t so miserable all the time.

After only a week, Riku’s back in my room more nights than not. _That_ feels really good.

I wish this wasn’t necessary, that none of this ever happened. But I can’t change it, so I just have to let myself take comfort in the fact that I have _zero_ complaints about how this is shaking out.

*

On a slow Wednesday I ask if Riku wants to go out, just the two of us. It’s been _forever_ since we’ve so much as gotten a quick take-out lunch together, let alone go out and sit someplace nice. I want to eat good food and stare at his face.

“What, this weekend?” he asks.

“Yeah!” I reply.

"...Like a date?" No, like a cult initiation. 

"Yeah, like a date! Or we could just hang out if you want." 

"...Yeah. Okay. Sounds great." 

Riku shuts the bathroom door and, I'm ninety percent sure, loses his dinner. But he comes to bed minty and fresh and clean, so I figure it's safe to at least give him a peck on the forehead. 

*

The restaurant we go to on Saturday is packed, but even though I'm hungry I don't mind the wait. The half hour before we get a table is spent latched onto each other, my arm through his, his cheek against my head. Occasionally Riku puts a hand on my shoulder or strokes the back of my neck, but mostly he just hums in acknowledgment as I talk nonstop, trying to close the gap that was created between us when he left. 

We’re seated and have our drink orders placed by the time I start running out of material. Now it’s my turn to listen.

“I’m thinking about getting a part-time job,” Riku says, eyeing the menu. “Maybe during the summer, but I’m kind of hoping for sooner if I can get my grades up.”

“Oh, wow!” I respond, sitting a little straighter in my seat. “What made you decide that?” Riku shoots me a grim little smile.

“I think it’s better if I keep myself busy.” The meaning isn't lost on me. I let out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe…” I agree. “Wait, are you sure you’re gonna have the energy for that? You still need to work on your college applications, right?” Riku nods, looking serious.

“I should have enough extra credit to get my high Ds to Cs, and then a few more tests should get me back up to Bs at a minimum. Then all I need to do is keep turning in all my assignments and I’ll be fine.”

“It’s just a lot to do at the very end of the semester,” I fret. “We only have a few days left, and most of our big projects were due before Christmas.”

“Yeah, I realize that.” His harsh tone silences me for a sec.

“...Sorry.” I rub the back of my head, sheepish. “I know you’re probably stressed and my nagging isn’t helping.” Riku just shakes his head, a small smile gracing his face.

“I know you’re coming from a good place, Sora.”

“How many more extra credit assignments do you have to get done?” I ask. He shrugs.

“Just a few more per class. They aren’t that hard, there’s just... a lot.”

“That’s so great. How’d you get your teachers to do that?”

“I told them the truth.” My eyes go wide. He did _what_? Riku shrugs. “I couldn’t make excuses for myself. I told my teachers I messed up and got into drugs, and now I’m trying to get my shit together.”

“How’d that go?”

He shrugs again. “Fine. I mean, they’re letting me make up for it, right?” I almost say something about the advantages of being honest, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to sound like I’m rubbing it in; I’m not. I’m happy for him, and so, so happy for the decisions he’s been making lately.

“Guess so,” I say instead. “Hey--I love you.” His eyes widen ever-so-slightly when I say it, both of us getting used to it again.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, face a little pink.

After we eat and pay, we hold hands all the way back through the tiny parking lot, only letting go to hop into my car. I maneuver my big car through the cramped space with care, and once we’re back on the main road, I reach out my hand so Riku can take it back again. I only really need one hand on the wheel, anyway.

“How’s your license treating you?” Riku asks.

“Oh, I’m never taking the bus again!” I respond. “I don’t even mind the traffic.”

“Give it twenty years.”

“Heh, yeah.”

“Hey,” Riku says suddenly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, concentrating on my unprotected left turn for a minute before tuning back in.

“Yeah. You’ve accomplished a lot this year. It’s really great.”

“Aw.” At a red light, I hold his hand up to my mouth, meeting it with a kiss. 

“S’your dad home tonight?” I shake my head. 

“Nope. Why?” Riku just laughs.

“You know why.”

Giddy butterflies shoot through my gut, jolting me. Suddenly, we can’t be home soon enough. The air between us is totally charged, and I’m just relieved we didn’t pick a restaurant across town. All-in-all it takes about ten minutes to get home, and by the time I’ve jumped out of the car, I can’t keep still.

We burst into the house, beelining it over to the couch. Riku _hmms_ before putting his hands on me, pushing my shoulders and gently laying me on my back. I open my legs, desperate for proximity, relishing his body against mine as he pushes himself forward and on top of me. As best as I can, I link my ankles, locking him against my body. He can’t move so well, but somehow I'm okay with that. 

I grind up against him, rocking our hips together until I feel him stiffen up against me. Sending him a questioning look, I reach a hand down between us, palming his erection over his jeans and sliding my hand beneath the layers of clothing concealing it from me when he responds with enthusiasm. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to do this… since I’ve made him come… a selfish part of me still hopes I’m the only one who’s ever had him in this position, had him panting and gasping… the reasonable part of me knows it doesn’t matter, we’re together now.

We're only kissing again for seconds before Riku pulls back, and for a second I’m thinking that he'd rather, I don't know, take this upstairs or something. But that’s not what he suggests. He just takes a breath and works kisses down my neck and shoulder, blowing warm air in my ear. I squirm, almost missing his low whisper. 

"Let's go." 

“...Hm?” 

His whisper raises to a murmur, still so close to my ear--it sends shivers through my whole body as I feel every word. 

“Sora, let’s _go_. Let’s get in your car and just go.”

“...Go where?” I ask.

“I don’t care.” He presses his lips to my neck, my cheek. “I need to start over… can’t do it without you…” I catch his mouth with mine, but he doesn’t hold the contact. “We can just elope, do… whatever…”

_Elope?!_

Alright, _that_ I was not expecting. 

"What?" I ask, laughing a little, nervous as all hell, pressing a hand flat to his chest. I lightly push him up off me as I sit up, swinging my legs back in front of me and planting them on the floor. He seems a little manic, and I’m not sure what brought this all on. "Are you messing with me?" 

“Yeah. No.” Riku shakes his head. “Look, just forget it, okay?” Uh, okay...

Wow. Eloping... there's no way he could have meant that. 

*

The following Friday finally marks the end of the semester. Riku and I drive to school together, partly to get that extra one-on-one time in, partly because it forces the two of us to stick together for the most part. Dad’s request, just while Riku’s still getting clean.

Riku wants to check out some books to read for the weekend, so I hang around in the library after the bell rings, taking the time to distract all my friends who still have stuff to do. I take a seat at the big, round table toward the center of the library they've claimed, then hunker down between Tidus and Kairi, and across from Wakka. Roxas flits by a few times and waves when he sees me but otherwise doesn't pay me too much mind as he darts in and out of various rows of books. I wonder if I took his seat, or if he's sitting with other people. 

Tidus takes a deck of cards out from his pocket and starts dealing out cards to everyone sitting at the table. Wakka stops what he's doing but Kairi passes, rotating between looking at her phone and a paperback novel.

We're almost done with round one of Crazy Eights and I'm losing horribly when Riku comes up behind me, and I think he'd have scared the shit out of me if I hadn't seen everyone's attention shift before he grabs my shoulder. 

"I'm done," he says lowly. "Let's go." He regards everyone with the ghost of a nod, then he's off. I shoot everyone a half-joking _shit I'm in trouble_ look, grab my backpack, and follow Riku out the door. 

"Something the matter?" I ask when I catch up with him, halfway to the parking lot. 

"It's nothing," he insists, a forced lightness in his voice, one that doesn't match the look in his eyes. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay," I reply, hoping he’ll change his mind and say something more, but he doesn’t. Whatever’s going on… he can handle it, I guess. 

Taking my keys from the front pocket of my backpack, I unlock the car with the press of a button. Both of us hop in and slam the doors shut, Riku beating me by just a few seconds. He buckles his seatbelt and I follow, but I don't start the car right away. 

"Alright?" I ask, really just in general. 

"Yeah," Riku responds, a little annoyed-sounding at first, so I slam the keys into the ignition and twist. My hand is on the parking brake when Riku takes it, looking at me with one of his 100% genuine, non-sarcastic, melt-your-heart smiles. He loosens his seat belt a little to lean forward, kissing me lightly, then sits flat again. "I love you," he says then, like he's still testing it out. 

"Yeah, I know that," I tell him, sending him a wink and a grin before I get us both home. 

*

Riku and I had tentative dinner plans tonight, but he had to run some errands so that gets pushed back a bit. I should’ve gone with him, but… I need to learn to trust him again, and that means letting him out of my sight every once in a while. Besides, Dad monitors Riku’s spending really closely now. It sucks, but it’s all meant to make sure that Riku isn’t squirreling away money he can use to buy drugs. So… if anything comes out, we’ll know. I hope.

I take advantage of an empty house the only way I know how: by spending the evening relaxing and pigging out in front of the TV. There's a movie marathon tonight on one of the local channels and I think really, really terrible B movies are exactly what I need right now to chase finals week out of my head. 

Speaking of things I need… it's almost seven o'clock, where's Riku? He was going to pick up dinner for us on his way back and I’m getting hungry.

I send him a text, and another and another, but now the minutes are crawling by and he isn't responding and I'm getting a little nervous. 

There's a really sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach and I don't think it's all the cheese balls. I love Riku, but... I know about him, I know he lies, and I know he's in so much pain right now, and so stressed out, and so scared...

Above all, he’s _strong_. Stubborn. He wouldn't go back. He couldn't... 

But I'll never know, if... 

I swallow hard, clicking off the TV and tossing the remote to the side. Mind made up, decision final: I have to go find out where he is. 

Well, that’s not really it. I need to find out where he _isn't_. I won't bother Roxas this time... I can go myself. This is something I need to do. 

Without even thinking about it I’m scrawling a note for Dad telling him I’ll be back by nine, my body and mind both on autopilot. I rush to my car, tearing out of the driveway and taking the first ramp onto the freeway, heading North for a few miles until I reach the exit I need. From there... I just have to go with my gut. 

Not knowing how to get where you need to go, especially if you've been there before and _should_ remember how, _especially_ when you're harried and frantic, is not fun. I keep having to slam the brake at red lights, keep overestimating how quickly I can speed through yellow ones. Then my mind starts spinning in all kinds of awful directions and I don't realize that another light's gone green again until someone honks and yells behind me. 

I'm not usually a bad driver, I swear. 

As I gather my wits, I start to realize that some of this is starting to look familiar. The fronts of stores pass by quickly, in bright blurs of neon... then I spot it. 

I think I've found the club that Riku went--goes?--to. There's no parking that I can find easily, so I make do by parking on the street next to it and hope that I won't get towed. I know there's no way in hell I'll be able to get in twice, especially without Roxas here to get me through, so let's see if I can make my way to the redheaded guy's house nearby and pray it's not so crowded this time. 

Riku, please don't be here. Please, please, please. Wherever you are, be _safe_.

I pick a direction that seems right from my hazy memory, speeding into a run as I travel blocks and twist into neighborhoods. Something heavy catches my shoe, and I'm sprawled on the ground before I even realize what happened. My palms are stinging but miraculously not skinned or bleeding as I hoist myself up, stumbling a little as I get to my feet. 

What did I trip over that would make me go _flying_ like that? 

Wait... 

_Who_ did I trip over? 

There's a stiff, short groan coming from the lump on the ground about a foot behind me. It's probably a homeless person, but I still take a second to see what just happened before I continue my search. Make sure I didn't hurt him too bad, probably owe him an apology--

Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit. 

Glancing back down, there's blood on the leg of my jeans. It's _not_ mine. 

"No way," I gasp. My eyes go wide as I get a better look at the body. It’s Redhead--Riku’s friend. Though sweating, pale, and bloody, he’s breathing. Okay, that’s a good sign. He’s alive. "Are you alright?" I ask automatically, dropping to my knees. “What happened?” 

His eyes are slow to move as he looks up at me. Bright green. A little watery, but alert.

“Oh, hey,” he says, like he ran into me at the store or something. "What, this? I was stabbed in the back by a friend. Literally. Then the front a few times for good measure. How’s your day going? Any weekend plans? TGIF, am I right?” I barely register anything he’s said--is he… is he trying to joke with me right now?

“I’m calling an ambulance,” I mutter, reaching in my pocket for my cell phone. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop it, but I catch myself at the last moment. "Here. It’s going to be okay, I'll help you--" ”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He pulls out his “I” for a long time, sing-songy. “Any way you cut it, I’m a dead man.”

"You are _not_ going to die.”

He shakes his head, managing a weak smirk. 

"My blood's gonna kill me whether it's in my body or on the pavement,” he says. “Put your phone away. It’s fine.” That takes me a second--and even then, I can’t figure out what he’s trying to say.

"Your--what?" 

“I’m sick,” he says, like it’s so simple. 

“Sick?” I ask, the pieces coming together seconds after the word leaves my mouth. _Oh._ “What… how…”

"Don’t share needles.” If I expect him to leave it at that, I’m wrong. With inappropriate coolness, he’s giving me answers before I can even think up the right questions to ask. “And don’t turn tricks for drugs, either, come to think. Don’t break a bone when you’re fifteen and get hooked on painkillers. Don’t drop out of high school or get kicked out of your granny’s place.” He snorts. “Hey, don’t do drugs, kids. How about that?”

"...I'm sorry," I mumble. It hits me too late how out of line that was for me to ask a stranger… while I’m already sneaking around looking for my boyfriend. I really _can’t_ mind my own business, can I? "I didn’t mean to pry." 

"Dead men don’t keep secrets." He looks away, sighing and coughing. "Speaking of which, Riku should probably get tested. You too." From my head to my toes, I go cold. My breath catches in my throat, he can’t _possibly_ mean-- “I didn’t let him use my needles, don’t worry. But you know how it is. You get high, things happen. Actually, I’ll bet you don’t know, huh?” No… but I know someone else who does. “Hey, don’t look like that. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sure you’re fine.”

“...Should Roxas get tested, too?” I ask as delicately as I can. For the first time, Redhead loses composure. His eyes widen, and he almost moves as if to sit up. Automatically I reach out, easing him back down.

“No, that happened to me after….” he trails off, no longer able to look at me. Ridiculously, I feel guilty for bringing it up. It solidifies my theory that this guy is the one Roxas told me about, but that doesn’t explain why I can still bring myself to feel so sorry for the guy. That awful thing that happened between them... it’s clearly still sensitive for them both. I hit a nerve, and I _can’t_ torture someone that way, especially in their final moments. “Whatever Roxas told you… it wasn’t like that. We were in so deep… he needed... I wanted to keep him safe…”

“He did need someone to keep him safe,” I agree, thinking of Roxas, my _best friend_ , and Riku, and maybe even Redhead himself. I think of them scared and alone and too young, without any family to help steer them in the right direction. “But… he needed to be safe from… from…”

“From people like me,” Redhead finishes succinctly. His head lolls back, eyes scrunching shut. I think he’s having a moment of clarity. Feeling a little regret. I wish it could have come sooner. 

"I’m going to stay with you," I find myself saying, trying not to pay too close attention to the way his voice is losing its liveliness, his breathing getting more shallow. How it’s only going to get worse, until...

"That'd just be fanfucking--" He winces suddenly, shifting and gasping. "Good. Sure. Yeah. That'd be good." 

"Here," I say, taking my jacket off and folding it, sliding it gently under his head. "Is that better?" He lets out a small snort. Maybe it was supposed to be laughter.

"I'm still dying, aren't I?" 

I frown; he laughs, fully this time, then coughs blood. 

"You're okay," I tell him. "You're okay. I'm not going anywhere. You're okay." He starts to say "alright", but has to mouth the second syllable. I let my voice drop. "Close your eyes," I say softly. In a moment of courage, I sweep sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. "Don't think about it. Just breathe. It doesn't matter to you anymore. You can’t go back, but something better might be waiting for you ahead." 

His lips turn up into the tiniest smile. “You think so?”

“I hope so.”

“Hope,” he repeats thoughtfully. His body shakes as he laughs again. Quiet and still, I take his gloved hand in mine, running my thumb over the back, the way I do with Riku, and Kairi sometimes, too. “I hope Roxas….” Whatever he hopes, he doesn’t finish. He looks far away when he blinks up at me, slow and a little confused. "Maybe if I just close my eyes, it'll be like he..." 

"Shh." 

“It doesn’t matter anymore?” he repeats. 

He's breathing slow, slower, slower, slower. And then... he stops. As if he’s made his choice, he closes his eyes, lets himself go limp, and fades. He dies under the stars, a companion by his side, and I hope that’s enough.

I let him go, looking like he’s just passed out drunk and will walk home in a few hours. But he's too bloody, too pale. Too still.

I should do something. Say something respectful for him. Just some indication that he's gone… but I’ve got nothing.

"I’m really sorry," I say finally, turning and leaving. 

When I reach my car all the adrenaline has worn off. I feel like I weigh a thousand pounds as I force the door open and climb in. Throwing my keys on the passenger's seat, I shut off the interior lights in my car, enveloping myself in darkness. 

Everything hits me at once and I’m wrecked, shaking and terrified. Feeling like I didn’t do enough and like I did too much all at once. I should have called an ambulance anyway, I should have left him, I should have gotten an apology from him, I shouldn’t have done anything different. But it’s over. I can’t go back, and even if I could, I honestly don’t know what I would have done differently.

With nothing else I can do, I curl up and weep for a stranger who turned my boyfriend into a monster, who stole my best friend’s childhood, and whose name I never even knew. 

*

Seeing someone die is an experience I never want to relive. He got so pale, so light, like his spirit was lifted straight from his body and into... wherever it is he's going. I wasn’t lying, what I said. I don’t know what I believe, but to get through tonight I have to believe he’s in a better place.

He held on for so long, joking ‘til the end... I think a part of him wanted to live, even though he was so resigned to his fate.

I shouldn't be sad. I didn't even know him. He wasn’t the kind of person I’d ever _want_ to know. But no one deserves to die alone, on the streets, cut down by someone you knew and maybe even trusted. I shouldn’t be sad, but I’m devastated.

I don’t remember the drive home or getting into the house. I just trudge upstairs, now feeling weak instead of heavy. When I open the door to my room, I expect to be greeted by nothing but silence and an empty bed. Instead--

“Riku?”

The ten seconds that elapse feel like hours as I take him in. He’s _here_ , he’s _right here_ , lounging on the desk chair, a boxes of food in a plastic back on the floor, reading as he picks at some steamed broccoli. He’s _here_. 

“Sora!” he mimics my call, slow to lift his eyes from the pages of his newest novel. “Where were y--” A loud, painful sniff jerks my entire body as I start to cry out of sheer relief. In one movement he’s looking up, setting down his food and dropping his book, not even caring where it lands. "What's wrong?" he asks. “What happened to your clothes? Is that _blood_?" 

"Where were you?" I ask, voice wavering wildly. He’s slow to rise from the chair, but quick to rush over to me, helping me get out of my soiled clothes and holding me tight.

“Are you hurt? Sora, what--”

“Where were you?” I ask again, taking in a gulp of air that becomes a frustrating round of hiccups. Riku strokes my hair, an arm tight around my waist as he pulls me closer. He sways lightly from side to side, the rocking motion soothing but not enough to calm my nerves. His voice is low and smooth and he speaks slowly, gently.

“The store down the street was out of the only medicine that’s been helping my stomach. So I went across town, then the restaurant messed up your order so I had to wait for them to remake it. I called your Dad to let him know. Thought he would’ve said something to you… Sora, please tell me what happened. C’mon.” 

Riku leads me to the bed, pressing a carton of cold noodles and a plastic fork into my hand. I was really looking forward to having this for dinner a few hours ago. Now… not so much. “I got back a little after seven, so the food’s been out for a while...it should still be good, but let me know if you want me to heat any of this up for you.” I just shake my head, starving but unsure if I can eat anything. I feel so sick--physically, spiritually. Riku strokes my hair again, concern written all over his face. “Did someone hurt you?” 

I shake my head, forcing myself to take a forkful of food and put it in my mouth, chew, swallow. I set the box aside. What I really want is water.

“You--y--you were g-gone s-s-s-s-so lo-lo-ong.” I close my eyes tight, trying to steady my breathing. I don’t say anything else for nearly ten minutes, letting Riku’s little apologies wash over me. “And I couldn’t get a h-hold of you.” Riku tells me his phone died; he forgot to charge it when we got home from school. I take in his explanations with dull acceptance. One more deep breath from me, in and out again. “I went looking for you.” His hand stiffens, gripping me painfully before it loosens again.

“...What do you mean you went looking for me?” he asks, tone level, a little guarded. If he loses it on me, I don’t know what I’ll do. All I can I do at this point is tell him the truth: searching blindly for him that one terrifying night, getting Roxas to come with me (his fingers give a hard twitch when I mention Roxas). Sneaking into a club. Meeting people who said they knew him, or at least knew the description of a tall boy with silver hair. 

By the time I’m done I feel wrecked all over again, ashamed and embarrassed for all the lying and snooping, feeling pathetic, needy, like some kind of stalker. Certainly the worst boyfriend ever. Obviously. “That was--you could have gotten into serious trouble. God, Sora.” I expect anger for a moment, but he just pulls me close to him again, kisses the top of my head. “You should never have--if something had happened to you, I could never forgive myself. I’m not worth that kind of trouble. Sora…” He kisses me again. “Did anyone hurt you, or… tell you anything, or approach you in any way…” Sniffling, I shake my head. 

“Your friend died.”

I didn’t mean to say it that way. I meant to ask about his friends, the ones who freaked me out so much. I mean to ask about the guy he was _macking_ on. But it’s all so vague in my head and the image of a sick man dying in front of me is so, so fresh. It’s all I can see when I close my eyes, even just to blink.

I move away, only to pull my jacket shut, and… nothing. Right… I took it off. I guess it's _his_ , now. 

“...Sorry, what was that?”

“Your friend died,” I say again.

“Who?” Riku asks, tense. “You--wait--someone _died_?” I’m not ready to talk about this yet. But all you can ever do is put one foot in front of the other until you get somewhere, so I do it anyway, starting from three hours ago when I noticed Riku didn't come home on time and go from there. That I was hasty and found his friend on the ground and in an hour he was dead.

My mind is clearer for telling the truth. Clear enough that I realize Riku was home a few minutes after seven; I _left_ a few minutes after seven. We must have missed each other by seconds. But if I hadn’t gone, his friend would have died alone... maybe it was supposed to happen this way.

The tears drop from my eyes in a constant stream, but I feel a little bit less panicked and scattered. 

"Red hair," I say delicately. "Really bright. I think his roots were starting to show. And he had tattoos under his eyes." I don't know why the flood of details come to me now, but I could keep going if I had to, for miles and years. “He was tall. Really skinny.” I swallow hard. “And…”

“Okay,” Riku says, sparing me from having to continue. He’s a little pale, but otherwise I’m having trouble reading him. “Yeah… that was Axel.”

Axel. Somehow putting a name to the face lifts the burden. 

How do I tell Roxas...

"Please," I whisper. I don’t mean to. When I speak again, I’m stronger and surer. "Please get tested. Please. Just do that for me." Regaining himself, Riku nods. “You’re not mad at me, right? For snooping?” Riku exhales loudly.

“No. I’m not mad.”

"Promise?" I ask next, and that's when I break down again, Riku laying me down and pulling me close. I should be comforting him, not the other way around. It was _his_ friend that died, I was just… there. But maybe we both need it to be this way. 

What a night. 

*

Riku says Dad already took him to the clinic for a blood test, but humors me anyway by setting up another appointment with no objections. Just to be safe, I go too. Twelve hours removed from last night’s disaster, my sense of logic tells me it’s unlikely I could’ve picked anything up from either Riku or Axel, but it never hurts to check.

This doesn't need to be said, but I want Riku to test negative--for everything, any kind of disease or for more drugs, or whatever could happen. I've never wanted anything so badly in my entire life. I need him to test negative, because I don't know what I'll do with myself if he doesn't. I can't even think about it too long, or I start to tear up and my throat closes and I get absolutely sick. 

For a week I’m on pins and needles, and the eventual ride back to the clinic for our results and debriefing is tense... mostly on my end, which makes Riku tense, too. Then the doctor tells us we both came back clean, and I feel stupid for ever having worried.

Riku buys me ice cream on the way home.

*

The whole atmosphere around the house is light, truly light, for the first time. Riku and Dad seem to be on good terms, and it feels like we’re really understanding how to be a family. Things between the three of us will never be normal in the traditional sense of the word, but… fuck it, life feels _normal_ , and we’re thriving.

Normal doesn’t mean perfect, as evidenced by the fight I have with Riku tonight. It’s not serious, just an argument that gets out of hand to the point that we both go to bed kind of irked. It’s over something stupid--a joke I make that doesn’t fly, and Riku snaps at me, and I snap back-- but I’m confident we’ll wake up in the morning wondering why we even got heated in the first place. Maybe then I’ll even be relieved to have our first “back together again” fight out of the way, but mostly I’m just annoyed. 

With my emotions so high, I end up having a really, really vivid dream of the night Axel died. I can't _stop_ dreaming about it. In the day I can busy myself and push his death out of my thoughts, but it always seems to come back and haunt me later on. 

When I start awake I'm terrified and my eyes are watery. My heart's pounding, and the complete darkness of my room is oppressive, like it's closing in on me. 

Quickly I find my way to the nearest bedside table--Riku's, so I must've really tossed and turned a lot--and flick on the lamp. Huh… if I’m on Riku’s side of the bed, that means he’s not in it. Duh. I glance over at the bathroom--empty. Taking a deep breath, I throw the covers off me and wander downstairs. 

The guest room door is closed. Bingo. Slowly, I turn the knob and push the door open, pleased to find that it isn’t locked. Riku’s huddled on the bed, a wet cloth on his forehead. I don’t think he’s sleeping.

“...Hey,” I whisper. Lo and behold, he turns his head over his shoulder to look at me.

"What," he mutters.

“Sorry to wake you. You mind?”

"Yeah, I mind," he replies. "What's up?" 

“I woke up and you weren’t in bed.” 

Riku grunts in response. “Yeah. Bad headache… just needed to sleep by myself.” 

“Take anything for it?” I ask.

“Mm. Didn’t help. What’s the matter with you?”

"I had a nightmare," is my feeble little answer. “I don’t know if I can get back to sleep.”

"Yeah? You alright?" 

"It was pretty bad," I murmur, licking my suddenly desert-dry lips. “Can you come back up?”

"Sora," he pleads. "I'm having the worst headache of my life right now. I’m sorry you can’t fall asleep, but I’m barely keeping it together." Yeah. Okay. I get it. "Listen to me," Riku says before I can go. "Everything is fine. It was just a dream, and you can tell me all about it in the morning." 

"Right," I agree, giving him a tired, not-quite-sincere smile. "Yeah, you're right." 

Riku nods, satisfied, and motions me closer. When I lean down, he presses a kiss to my forehead, snuggles back down into the covers, and shuts his eyes. 

He's right, I think as I leave his bedroom. He's right and I knew that even before I came down. 

But for some really strange reason, I can't shake the jittery feeling I've had since I woke up. I can't help it. 

* 

At six, I prepare for school as usual, showering, dressing, and brushing my teeth. I’m not as groggy as I would’ve thought, even though I got maybe another hour or two of sleep, tops, after I woke up. 

It's only when head I downstairs to fix myself some breakfast that I realize the house is... strangely quiet. I glance at the clock on the microwave. It's a little after seven, so there's no reason for anyone to be gone already. I wonder if Riku and Dad both managed to sleep in by mistake? Riku had that nasty headache… maybe he won’t feel good enough to go to school today.

I fix myself a quick oatmeal breakfast, finding a note on my seat when I go to sit at the dining room table. 

_Sora, taking Riku to the hospital. Call me when you wake up. I will fill you in. Love you -Dad_

I nearly drop my oatmeal, barely managing to save it as my grip slackens.

What the... 

I swipe my cell phone out from my pocket and dial Dad's number. Thankfully, he picks up on the first ring. 

"Dad, what happened? Is Riku okay?" 

"Yeah, everything's fine," Dad says. He sounds calm enough for me to believe him, so the panic subsides fast. Now it’s just confusion.

"What happened?" I repeat, shouldering my backpack and heading out the door. I think I'll head to the bus stop... I don't trust myself driving when I'm this anxious. 

"Riku had a seizure this morning.” 

“A seizure?” I ask. _That’s_ new…

“Yeah. It happened this morning after I got downstairs to put on some coffee. He smacked his head on the way down so his brain is a little scrambled, but he's going to be okay. Sora, do you know if Riku’s ever had a seizure before?”

“No… I don’t think so.” If he did, it would’ve been before we met.

“Okay. I’ll talk to the doctor and we’ll get to the bottom of this. Bring Riku’s homework after school, please." 

"You sure he's...?" I ask.

"I am. He's awake and talking and everything." 

"Can I talk to him?" 

"Not right now. He’s with a doctor." I hear Dad let out a breath on the other end of the line. "It's really going to be fine,” he says. “Okay, Sora? Just try and have a good day." 

"I will." 

"You're so brave, you know that?" 

I slow my pace, a little embarrassed. Luckily after that he lets me go. 

What a roller coaster, to be so terrified then so relieved in the space of a half hour, tops. I'm still hopelessly frazzled for the rest of the day, but I just gotta shake it and be ready to smile for my friends when I see them in twenty minutes. 

*

After school I drop my stuff off at home, check the mail, and drive straight to the hospital. Parking is a pain in the ass, since for some reason the first two floors of the parking structure are teeny little compact spaces and I'm definitely _not_ compact. Then it takes me a good fifteen minutes to find Riku because he's not in the ER anymore. So the people in the lobby direct me to another wing of the building, who have trouble finding him, then don't trust that I'm family... it's just a mess. And I have no service here, so I can't call Dad and get him to vouch for me. 

At some point the hospital staff must get sick of me, because they redirect me to yet another room and tell me just to sit until someone grabs me. 

"Sora?" 

I look up, beaming, at the sound of Dad's voice. He's smiling but it doesn't quite reach his tired eyes. That's when it hits me for real: he was the one who found Riku in the morning… or maybe it happened while he was in the room, maybe they were talking and then, without warning... 

Man, I can't even imagine... 

"How's everything?" I ask, striding up to him.

"Oh, things are just fine," he replies. He wastes no time leading me back into a long, white hallway, full of doors to private rooms which are all shut tight. 

...I think we might be in the psych ward, which raises some questions. Later.

"So he'll be home tonight?" I ask hopefully.

Dad shakes his head. "I'd give it a day or two, buddy. Riku and I had a long talk and decided it would behoove him to finish his detox here." 

Yeah, okay. I’m not thrilled to be away from Riku _again_ , but it makes sense. If it’ll make him healthy again, I’ll go along with it.

*

For the next few days I head straight to the hospital after school, doing homework in a chair just outside Riku's room till he's up and ready to talk to me. This whole thing ends up being rougher than any of us anticipated. His doctor's making him do all kinds of tests to make sure it’s safe to let him go and in the interim he’s sedated more often than not.

I occupy myself with homework while Dad does work-work next to me. We’re both pretty much in our groove, zeroed in on our respective tasks while we wait for Riku to stir. 

I glance up at the sound of footsteps, expecting a doctor or nurse, but it’s not. I wouldn’t normally think much of it, but something about the man heading our way holds my attention. 

He’s magnetic--seriously gorgeous--but I don’t think that’s it. He doesn’t particularly look of place, either. It’s hard to tell his age for sure but maybe I’d place him in his thirties, and he’s tall, maybe around Riku’s height. So, closing in on six feet but not quite there. Nothing about his clothing rings any alarms: basic dark jeans and a navy sweatshirt with the logo of a college I've never heard of printed in yellow letters. 

I’m openly gawking at this point, but he doesn’t seem to notice. It's driving me nuts because I think I must recognize him from somewhere… I just have no idea where…

And then it hits me.

No. No way. It isn’t. This isn’t even _remotely_ possible.

The hair and eyes are dark, the skin tan, the face chiseled without a hint of the roundness I see in Riku when he’s at his healthiest. But his eyes have that unmistakable intensity, and he walks with such a purposeful stride... and now I see it, it's in his face-- the nose, the mouth... 

He looks like his son. Or, I guess I should say, that Riku looks like his father.

Nathan.

Nathan is here.

After the all the stories and tiny bits of information eked out from Riku’s frazzled, traumatized mind, the ones that took _ages_ for him to share with me… it’s really him: the myth, the legend, the total _nightmare_. _Here_ , right in front of us, slowing to a stop as my dad _waves him down_.

What's he doing here? How? Why? What the hell... what right does he think he have to drop in like this? Does he think he’s going to get away with hurting Riku again? Take him back to Darry? Or just shame him? 

Not on my watch. Nathan will never, ever hurt Riku ever again as long as I live. I will get Riku out of this hospital under our dads’ noses, I will put him in my car and we’ll drive to the ends of the earth before I let that man near him. I’ll keep Riku safe forever.

Dad rises to his feet, smiling, but there’s no warmth in it.

“...Jonathan?” he asks tentatively. “Jonathan Imakura?” Huh _?_

“Just Nathan is fine.” They shake once. Next to my dad, Nathan looks so young. His voice sounds like Riku’s-- _just like_ Riku’s. It’s the weirdest thing in the world, seeing him right in front of me. And not hitting him. Not yelling at him. My eyes are darting between him and my dad, my blood pounding in my ears. Did Dad set this up? _Why_?

“He’s in here?” Nathan asks, motioning to the door. Dad nods.

“He’s on a lot of medication right now, so he might not be completely present. Just something to keep in mind.”

“Hm.”

I might be imagining it, but Nathan appears to take a deep breath before opening the door and entering Riku’s room.

I jump to my feet, ready to follow. I have to know what's going on, I have to be there, I have to protect Riku... 

"Sit," Dad says firmly.

“Why?” I bark. My voice echoes loudly through the hall and Dad shoots me a stern look. “What’s going _on_?” I ask next, words hissed through clenched teeth. “Why is Riku’s dad here?” Dad takes a deep breath.

“Riku’s parents deserve to know that their son is alive.”

Since I moved in, I’ve never really been angry at Dad. That changes today.

“No they don’t,” I reply. Dad sighs.

“You’ll understand when you’re a parent yourself, kiddo.”

I’m so annoyed, I can’t bring myself to respond to that. On principle. 

For twenty minutes I seethe, my concentration shot, and noticing that Dad’s equally distracted. His typing slows almost to a stop, and he keeps glancing at Riku's room. Then the door swings open, and Nathan reemerges.

"He's pretty out-of-it," Nathan says. "So if you talk to him..." I think something different is gonna come out, and maybe Nathan plans on it. But he finishes with, "Talk slow." 

"Yeah, that’s been the norm for the past few days," Dad says, like nothing's wrong or unusual. _Am I the only one who sees how weird this is?_ “He should be back up to snuff soon. He’s a fighter, that one.”

“Tell me about it,” Nathan replies sardonically, stuffing his hands in his pockets and exiting the way he came. I watch him disappear around a corner, and it’s like he was never here to begin with.

Now that the anger has worn off, I’m stunned. Or maybe I’m too stunned to be angry anymore. Either way, I want to ask a thousand questions, but I don't. That can wait. Right now, I need to be where I belong, where I’ve always belonged: right by Riku’s side, helping him in any way I can. Us against the world.


	34. Wellness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku takes a leap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up for some frank talk about self-harm and suicide in this chapter.

Two weeks and one panic attack later, and I might be approaching something close to wellness. I'm out of the hospital today, and with all the schoolwork I've still been getting done during my stay, I feel productive, alert, and on track. I’m not sure what my future is going to look like, but I’m not going to flunk out of high school and that’s almost an accomplishment at this point.

Mostly I'm looking forward to patching things up with Sora when I'm out. I have a lot to tell him… I just have to figure out the best way to do it. I’m sure he noticed which wing the doctors put me in, but to his credit, he’s held off on asking why for now.

We haven't really seriously spoken about what happened between us over this past year yet. There’s a lot to unpack, and I think we’re both just trying our best to establish some semblance of trust and liking again before we really try to repair our worn foundation. I wonder when we'll have no other choice but to bring it all up and try to make sense of things. I’m not dreading it. During my better moments, I think it might even be for the best. But…I have a feeling it’s going to be hard on us both.

For now, I'm just going to enjoy being in love with him.

I love him. I can finally admit it to myself as indisputable fact, and more importantly, take comfort in it.

He’s been the major bright spot through this whole thing. Really. Mr. Hart has been patient and understanding, as have my doctor and nurses, and I’m appreciative. But I don’t know if any of this would be so easy if I couldn’t rely on Sora seeing me through, here at 3:27 like clockwork, so many days a week. I only wish I could remember more of his visits--my memory of last week is hazy, at best.

The first time I was conscious enough to fully register Sora’s appearance, to sit up and _talk_ to him, he took me aback. It’s like I forgot who he is now. I guess I expected to be reunited with a chattery little fourteen-year-old, with too many questions and not enough discretion or common sense. Maybe there’s a side of me that’s refused to let that part of our relationship go, the mistrust and suspicion and endless hesitation.

I don’t know when Sora got so tall. I _swear_ that the last time I kissed him, really kissed him, it felt like I had to double over to reach. He’s still a half-pint, but he’s back to reaching my shoulder despite the extra inches I grew over the summer. And two days ago when I saw him, he was wearing the ring I got him for his fifteenth birthday--on his ring finger, not on a borrowed chain around his neck. It took roughly two years, but it finally fits. Now I just have to get over my own embarrassment at seeing it on him. Giving my boyfriend a ring for his birthday, sized _wrong_ , when we’ve _barely_ started dating is tacky as all hell. Still, I’ll take the embarrassment if it means I get to see him.

I don’t know when his hair got so light, or how brown his skin turned, no doubt from the endless hours of sun, surf, and swim. I don’t know when he got so lean and _strong_. He conducts himself with a sureness, a confidence that almost intimidates me. He’s always been special, but now… he’s really something to behold. I wasn’t surprised when Sora said he dated while we were apart. If were anyone else, I’d have been vying for his attention, too.

Now that attention is mine again, and I’m not letting it go.

...With that settled, I glance up at the clock, watching the seconds tick by. Mr. Hart left me a book but I've finished it and restarted it already, and now I'm just paining for something to do. I'm so restless, so done with hospitals for the rest of my life. Done with laying in this bed and sleeping and watching TV, of missing school and meals at home with my family.

My family.

I guess they are, huh?

Anxious to just _get moving_ , I rise from my bed, change back into my clothes and pace. My head buzzes and buzzes with nervous energy and doesn't stop buzzing until my nurse pokes her head in to tell me I’m all checked out and Mr. Hart is on his way. 

He comes by ten minutes later to collect me, greeting me with a hand on the shoulder and a smile.

“Have everything?” he asks as I grab my bag. I do a quick once-over, even though I’ve checked so many times already I’ve nearly got the room memorized from top to bottom.

“Yeah.”

“Great! Let’s get you home.” 

Home. Mr. Hart always says it like it’s nothing.

“I can’t wait to be back,” I respond, voice low, almost hoping he doesn’t hear me. Our mutual openness with each other has changed our relationship and I’m trying to keep it up, but that doesn’t mean I’m entirely comfortable volunteering all my thoughts and feelings. But even if I whisper or mumble… I’m still giving them a voice, and that counts for something.

Mr. Hart squeezes my shoulder, smiling wider as we step out of the room.

/

I’m back.

The second I’m in, I’m bowled over by a rush of memories and frustration and fondness, and I've only been gone for fifteen days but it feels like I've been away for so, so long. I _have_ been away for so long.

I missed Sora's sweet sixteen and Christmas and New Year's. I missed nights we could have been out, or in, having fun, enjoying each other’s company. I missed family dinners and outings and chances to get to know Sora’s friends better.

I fucked up so badly. I hurt Sora. I hurt _everyone._

I take a seat on the couch as Mr. Hart continues to the kitchen, my head in my hands, letting the gravity of this all hit me again. I don't know if I can fix this, can fix myself, but... I have to try. /

If I thought that I would have time to relax a little bit before getting back into the swing of things, I thought wrong.

First off, a lot of local schools are no longer accepting applications for the fall semester next year. That comes as a blow when I finally set up my long overdue visit with the school’s career counselor, who seems irritated that I’m coming to her so late in the game. 

Then we’re forced to reckon with the fact that, in all my inconsistent years of schooling, I have a mere three semesters’ worth of official records for my transcripts, most marked by unexcused absences and notes from my teachers of extensions and special requests. I have nothing to set me apart from the masses of mediocre students who will be applying en masse… or, in all likelihood, already have. All I’ve got are grades that took an unexplained plummet and skyrocketed again, no work experience, no volunteer hours, no sports, no clubs, and too many missed summer writing workshops to be able to count in good conscience. 

And then there’s the fact that the grades I earn from here to graduation don’t even count, since my applications will already be in, rendering my current GPA worthless.

When all is said and done, I wonder if I’ll even be able to graduate. The fact that I haven’t yet been told that I don’t qualify for a high school diploma feels like an error, and I’m just waiting for the news that I won’t be walking with my classmates this year. 

Every time I think I’ve discovered all the ways in which I’ve ruined my life, I just uncover more. If I can’t even graduate high school, no one’s going to hire me. I won’t be able to move out, and then I’ll be stuck, because no matter how generous Mr. Hart has been to me, he has no obligation to continue taking care of me as I pass into adulthood, and I would never expect him to or ask that of him. 

I remember a conversation I had with my mom once, about things I wanted to do when I grew up. Big things, great things, the way kids always think they’re going to do. I remember Nathan leaning in the doorway, his presence unnoticed by me until he told me I’d better figure it out, because he wasn’t going to wait for me to get my shit together. I think that might have been the first time he warned me that when I left home--”home”--I was on my own.

If I focus in, I still hear Mom breathing out through her nose, hard, the scraping of her chair on the floor, the sound of her bare feet on the hardwood floor as she approached him, and her voice, lowered, but not enough that I couldn’t hear her angry hiss: _You’re such a dick, Nathan. He’s just a little kid._ Nathan just scoffed and left, probably rolled his eyes like the teenager I’m not sure he ever stopped being. 

I can’t be like them, trapped in perpetual youth, irresponsible, impulsive. I have to grow up.

But as it is now… I’m stuck.

This is all so pointless. I quit drinking and clubbing and shooting up, just like everyone wanted me to, and I went through hell for it, and there is nothing, _nothing_ here for me anymore. I came back to be a fucking burden to everyone I love, and it's so fucked up. Fuck me, this is what I _knew_ would happen and I still deluded myself into thinking that maybe this would all be worth it.

Maybe if I hadn’t run away, if I had just forced myself to grin and bear my last five years in that awful town, I would’ve been able to scrape up the grades and the funds to get out and go to school, maybe I would’ve had some idea of what I wanted to be, aside from _anyone_ but myself… did a decision I made at thirteen destroy my entire life? Is every choice I’ve ever made _wrong_?

But it wasn’t a choice. I wouldn’t have made it out alive if I had tried to stay, I know that for a fact. Darry was going to kill me. 

Maybe there are no choices, maybe all of my decisions are arbitrary, and I’m trapped in a predetermined journey, cycling between delaying and rushing toward the inevitable.

If that’s true, I should let Sora go for once and for all. I should do whatever I can to repay Mr. Hart for all he’s done, even though I know in the depths of my soul it will never be enough. And then I should walk right back into the fucking ocean. Let the water fill my lungs and just put an _end_ to all of this already. 

There will never be a point that I stop being tainted, filthy. I can’t escape who and what I am. I’m surprised people can even stand looking at me as if they don’t know what I am. Monster. I’m a fucking monster. When Axel died, that should have been my cue, the universe screaming at me from all sides: _HINT, HINT. TIME TO GO._

Axel is dead and I still don’t know what to feel. Was he my friend? Or just my dealer? Do I miss him, or do I miss being high? Or both? All I know is that I can’t even go back to him now.

Go back. It’s so easy for me to jump right back to that idea, huh?

How can I possibly even entertain the idea of going back to that lifestyle after everything that's happened? But it would be so easy, just to be numb for the rest of my short life. Living is so hopeless. I should go. Somewhere, anywhere... it's just so selfish of me to stay, to make Sora and his dad and everyone have to put up with me.

The front door slams shut and I jump, the sudden burst of adrenaline at least snapping me out of those thoughts for now. I take a deep breath and remember what the doctor told me my first night in the psych ward. The places I go in my head when things are really bad… they aren’t me.

I want to live. 

I want my pain to end, but I don’t actually want to die. 

There are ways to end my pain that won’t cause me harm, even if I can’t see them right now.

These thoughts aren’t rational; there’s a darkness in me that wants me to die, but that doesn’t mean I should listen.

"How's it going?" Mr. Hart asks, ruffling my hair as he passes. I grunt, pretending to be involved in my homework though I can barely concentrate. "Sora tell you when he's coming home tonight?"

"No," I say quietly. Mr. Hart _hmm_ s, taking a seat at the table almost next to me, then grabs his new flip phone, texting slowly.

I let out another long, slow breath. Too measured, too long. I think that's a red flag for him. Naturally, he was there for my “suicidal ideation” talk with the doctor.

"Everything okay?" he asks, eyes fixed on the screen. 

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" he repeats.

"Yeah," I confirm. But I’m wrong. Things are definitely not okay. Not at this second, at least. "I'm sorry.” Mr. Hart’s face gives away his confusion for a second, he looks over at me as he sets his phone down. “Sorry I'm so weak." 

With that sentiment out of the way, I dissolve into tears.

I bury my face in my arms, feeling like the biggest fucking asshole in the world, sobbing and aching and so alone, so, so pathetic. I stopped crying when I was a child and I must’ve forgotten how it hurts, and hurts, and hurts…

Mr. Hart's warm hand closes over mine, and he squeezes. For a long time, he doesn't let me go, doesn't tell me to hush or get a grip or feed me bullshit lines about how it's all okay when he doesn't even know what the problem is.

"Riku…” He calls for my attention gently, reaching to brush my bangs from my wet, reddened face as I look up at him. "What makes you say that?"

I press my elbows to the table, clasping my hands as if in prayer, and rest my forehead against them. 

"Be--be---c--cause...." I stop, take a deep breath. Let's try this again. "Because I messed up. I'm not going to college, I don't stand a chance anymore, if I get sick one more time I'm out of school and that's the end. I think--I’m--oh fuck, I’m a failure."

"But it’s _not_ the end," he says. Of course he fucking says that. "Riku, what's the worst that's going to happen? You get refused when you apply to school? Then you go to community college, start earning class credits, and transfer in two years. You get sick? Then you repeat the grade. No one's going to hold it against you if you have to try again. We all know it's been a hard year for you. You don't always need to go at full speed. You can wait a year, you can take some time to get to know yourself again. Everything will still be there for you. You are not a failure, and you are _not_ weak."

I try to fight it, but I'm crying again before I even know it. Not as hard, but steadier, like I'll never stop, and that's when Mr. Hart caves, dragging his chair closer to mine and wrapping me in the fullest, warmest hug I think anyone's ever done. And I just cry, and somehow it aches less this time, even if I'm not sure if the ache ever truly go away. 

“You have time, Riku. You have time and so many happy memories ahead of you. I know this is a tough time right now, but you really don’t have to have it all figured out. You can _always_ start over. There’s no such thing as ‘too late’.”

The front door slams shut again, Sora and Roxas’ voices spilling from the entry. Oh, fuck. They can _not_ see me this way. I go quiet and still, and Mr. Hart lets go of me long enough to rise from his seat. I crane my head, watching him go until I have no choice but to wipe my eyes dry. Roxas and I make eye contact and I look away immediately, trying not to pay attention as Mr. Hart asks them to go upstairs. Still embarrassing, but… maybe less so.

“Is everything okay?” Sora asks, shifting this way and that, trying to get a look at me. Mr. Hart stands firm, turning him around by the shoulders.

“Yeah, it will be. Riku’s just having a human moment, that’s all.”

Two pairs of feet shuffle upstairs, voices still carrying. I just try to take a breath and get ahold of myself, swallowing hard, scrunching my eyes shut to combat the burning. I feel the weight of Mr. Hart next to me, his steady presence. I open my eyes, managing a tiny smile to meet his.

“It’s okay, Riku.”

And because he says it's okay, it's okay. \

Exhausted, I retreat to the guest room for a moment alone before dinner. I don't read or study, or agonize, or guilt trip. I just… exist. There's a dull throbbing in my skull and I really need a glass of water, but it's okay. I'll live. Maybe for the first time, I _am_ alive.

I really did think I'd never stop crying, but everything ends. Good things, all too quickly, but the bad things, too. Aimless, my gaze lands on the door to the bathroom. A shower sounds good right now, but that would mean getting up and I need to stay in bed for a little while longer.

It’s funny, relaxing in this tiny room. I associate it so strongly with being kicked out of Sora’s bed, self-medicating in privacy, nights of pain and nausea that seemed endless that first week off heroin. But my first hot shower in three years also happened in this room, on the first day Sora finally found his father and I maybe, kind of helped. I was afraid then, but relieved, too, in a way I may never truly be able to recapture. Scraping the dirt off my body, letting the heat soothe muscles that hurt for so long, not worrying about being _caught_ … I didn’t let myself relax, then. I couldn’t. 

I told myself I would leave during the night. Then night came and I just needed sleep, and I told myself I’d be gone after the doctor. Then before school.Then before meeting Sora’s family. I could go on forever, but I’m here to stay.

Yeah… I think I’m finally here to stay.

I wish I could tell that fifteen-year-old version of myself to breathe easy. He’s safe now.

\

I check out books about addiction from the library. I can tell it worries Sora, that I spend so many hours of my personal time reading about everything I’ve been hooked on. I’m afraid he might think this will make me crave it again, or that my sudden interest is anything but informational. It isn’t. I just need a fuller understanding of what’s going on with my body, my mind. 

I wish I'd read before I started this all the ways heroin literally rewires the brain. My body stopped producing endorphins on its own, used to relying on that potent replacement… no wonder life has felt so bleak even though, technically, it’s the best it’s ever been. But that’s not permanent. With the physical symptoms gone, I learn, the worst of the withdrawal has passed. And I’m sleeping well again, which is another hurdle crossed. Less irritable. Another hurdle. I’m reaching the light at the end, and soon it’ll just be a matter of making sure I never, ever go back.

The cravings are pretty bad sometimes still, but maybe someday that'll pass. If it doesn't... well. Self-control. And diligence. And distractions. Everything that got me through running away. I still have that drive, that will to survive. I just need to re-channel it, and think about Sora. Always think about Sora. 

And school. Because you haven't paid attention to a single word the teacher's been saying for the last ten minutes, Riku.

Luckily I don't have to try for much longer, because we're split into groups and given worksheet packets, which is really what I need right now to get my mind off things. Just wish I could clear this foggy feeling from my head, but I can push through it. \

I’m accosted on my way out from class at the sound of the lunch bell.

“Riku!”

It’s a girl in my group from earlier, Shiki. She tries to talk to me a lot, and I’m afraid I tend to be a little dismissive of her. It’s just, she’s a _lot_ and I’m not ever sure how to respond to it. 

I turn, looking her in the eye, one hand clutching the strap of my bag hard. She’s tall--I don’t have to look down to talk to her like I do with Kairi and Selphie, and even Sora. And she stands _close_. Almost too close, but I use all my willpower not to take a step back.

“Yeah?” 

“I was just wondering--” Uh-oh. That’s my first thought. I don’t know why. “Do you want to eat lunch with us today?”

“Us?” I blurt out. She links an arm through mine, leading me down the hall.

“Yeah! Me and Neku would _love_ the company.” I barely know Neku, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak even once. So somehow I doubt that this is even remotely on his behalf.

Still… I think it might be good to have a group of friends apart from Sora. Actual _peers_. I mean, I like his friends, and I'm going to try to make more of an effort with them, but I think having space of my own is a good thing, too. 

“...Yeah, okay. Just let me stop by my locker.”

Shiki grins. “Okay, we’ll be in the quad. Don’t make me come looking for you!”

I return her wave as I continue down the hall alone, breathing easy. There’s still a tiny part of me that expects attention from my classmates to be negative, but it doesn’t come out a lot anymore. Every once in a while, usually when I’m taken by surprise.

I make a quick pit stop at Sora’s locker before hitting mine, greeting him with a kiss and letting him know my plans. (“Friends!” he proclaims, eyes big. “New friends!”) We kiss again, my hand on his shoulder, pulling him in close. I promise to see him after school; he points out that he’s my ride. 

\

Lunch goes okay, I think. This group clearly knows each other well, but I never really feel like I’m locked out of the conversation. They all seem to fulfill their own roles: Neku observes, Joshua banters, Shiki teases, Rhyme diffuses. Beat goes to parties and shoves his mouth on my boyfriend.

Yeah. 

_That_.

Didn’t take long for me to find out through some combination of the high school grapevine and Sora himself who came running once we stopped going around together.

My first instinct is to hate him--all of those guys, really-- and when I think too hard about it, about Sora being happy with them, all I want is to get away from these people. I can barely look at Beat without this awful visual of him on top of my boyfriend projecting straight into my brain. 

But he’s fine, and they’re fine, and so am I. I don't own Sora, both of them had every right to do what they did and I’m glad they did it if it was good for them. That last part’s a lie-- but I need to shake this jealousy. Sora isn't mine, he doesn't belong to me, and Beat is a good fucking guy, and jealousy is so fucking ugly, and I need to get over myself. Maybe someday, I will. 

I finish out the day in relative peace. On the drive back at the end of the day, I ask Sora if he wants to spend some time together Friday night. My energy reserves are low enough that I don’t know if I can commit to a date or outing, and I realize already that if Sora doesn’t have plans, we’ll probably be together regardless. But that’s not enough. I just want to get to him first, want to make sure that when the end of this week rolls around, I can look forward to being with him.

“Yeah,” he says, glancing at me _just_ long enough that I almost urge him to look at the road. “Definitely. Whatever you want to do.”

I think I maybe might know what I want to do.

\

At sundown, Friday night, I take Sora to my beach. We kiss each other breathless as the stars come out, mouths and hands searching; we’re laying each other down, getting sand in our clothes, our hair. 

If anything this is going to make our talk even _more_ uncomfortable, all grimy and warm, and it leaves me feeling vaguely like I lured him here under false pretenses. _This_ is great. But… not what I brought him for.

“Hey,” I gasp, breaking away, planting the back of my head in the sand. Sora misunderstands.

“Hey,” he responds, his voice just as husky and hoarse as mine. He lets out a small laugh as he dips down again, connecting our lips; I give him a nudge on the shoulder and he backs off then, pushing himself up but not off. I loosen my deathgrip on his ass, hands moving to his thighs as he straddles my lap, down to his knees and up again. 

“I need to talk to you about something,” I say. Or, that’s what I mean to say, what I would have said if Sora hadn’t pushed his hips, sending a bolt of electricity through my groin and… all over. As it is, my well-intentioned words come out more like a “I need to t--oh, oh fuck,” which gets Sora grinning and red in the face. It earns him another nudge and he dismounts, looking smug. I want to wipe that little grin off his face. Maybe later. “I need to talk to you,” I say, for real this time, pushing myself up off my back.

He plops down next to me on the sand.

“Yeah? What about?” I take a deep breath… but hopefully he doesn’t notice. His grin slips a little, replaced by a purely curious look. “...Riku?”

“Do you remember that seizure I had?”

“Yeah, of course I do, Riku.”

“When I quit heroin…” I try not to fidget, try to look calm. This whole “being honest” thing is hard. Has always been hard. “Don’t kill me. After I quit heroin, I was still drinking.”

Sora goes entirely still, his expression sourer than I usually see on him. For a second I regret it, but he relaxes, breathes out, and I remember that I’m doing the right thing. I’m doing what he’s asked of me, what he’s been asking of me for years. 

“...How?” he asks.

“I found where your dad keeps his alcohol one night when I couldn’t sleep... he has a lot of wine. It was easy to just take a little from each bottle until I could get a buzz going. There was also one morning that I found a flask I’d hidden what was still full of something, so I downed it.” I glance over at Sora, then lose my nerve before I can really get a good look at him. “I stopped drinking altogether maybe a day or two after I told you both I was quitting, right before your dad started monitoring me so closely. The seizure was most likely from the alcohol withdrawal. It wasn’t from the drugs.” Sora’s still hard to read, an unbearable thing to see on a bright, open face… “I’m completely clean now. No drugs, no booze. Not even cigarettes. One _hundred_ percent sober.”

“...Does Dad know?”

“Yeah. I told him everything in the hospital. When I got back, I showed him where I’d hidden the flask to be safe. Just… so I’d never be tempted to use it for anything again. It was probably the last hiding place I had.” I suck in a deep breath. “It gets…” My instinct is to say worse, just out of reflex. But I don’t know _what’s_ worse at this point. “It’s bad, Sora.”

“What else?”

“When the heroin withdrawal was at its worst, I started hurting myself. Not cutting or anything, but if I’d itch, I’d start scratching until I drew blood. Small things. That’s… probably the main reason why I was in the hospital for so long, and why they put me in psych and sedated me.” I let out a deep breath. It’s out now. And it feels okay. “I might’ve been in a really dark place and didn’t even realize it,” I continue. “Whatever I said to the doctor and your dad when I woke up that first day made them feel like… maybe I needed a little extra help.” Sora’s eyes are welling up, he can’t look at me. I hope I’m doing the right thing tonight.

“I said… something stupid. I think your dad said something about how he was afraid I wouldn’t wake up, and I joked that maybe it would’ve been for the best. I didn’t plan to say it, it just came out. So the doctor started asking all these questions, and I knew where he was going with it, tried to convince him I wasn’t serious… then I realized that I was. And how often I feel that way without ever thinking anything of it.” Sora blinks back the tears, wiping his nose with the back of his wrist.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says. Shame washes over me, followed by guilt. All vague; I can’t pinpoint where they come from or why.

“...Are you mad?” I ask.

“Nah. Just… a little sad.” There it is.

“I don’t want you to be sad.” He shakes his head.

“I can’t help it,” he says. “I’m glad you’re being open with me, though. I wish you could’ve told me all of this sooner.” Yeah. Right. 

“Every time I tell you when things are bad, you’re disappointed.” _Now_ he’s looking at me, head tilted in utter bewilderment. “Yeah, you give me this look, like you feel bad… you’re disappointed. I don’t want to make you feel… like... like I’m letting you down.”

He stares at me for a long time, still discerning. He opens his mouth, and it stays that way for what feels like a long time before he finally starts stammering.

“Disa--d--disa _ppointed_ \--! Riku… I… it’s called _empathy!_ I’m not judging you, I’m commiserating with you! Oh my god, Riku! You think I’m _disappointed_ that you have _feelings_ like a normal person?” I stiffen, defensive but trying hard not to lash out.

“…It’s just. Whenever I feel bad, you seem to feel bad too! I hate making you feel that way, I just… I figured it…”

“You think I’m upset _because of_ you, or _at_ you, and not... just... on your behalf.” I nod helplessly. I’m not even sure if that’s better, if that distinction makes enough of a difference for me to not hate myself for making him go through the motions with me all the time.

“It’s okay,” Sora says, before I can even apologize. To further drive the point home, he smiles, his voice is bright as he asks, “Hey. When I’m sad, how does that make you feel?”

“Sad,” I reply easily. “Like I want to fix it.”

“Do you feel like I’m doing something to you?”

“No. Never.”

“Right.”

For the first time, I connect the dots. It seems so obvious now.

“Oh. Right.”

He smiles again, letting out a breathy laugh as he looks over at the water.

“Is that why you don’t always tell me the truth about stuff?” he asks. That one’s harder.

“I--yes, no… sometimes…”

I look over again and he’s got his knees tucked against his chest, arms wrapped around his knees. It makes him look so small.

“Why is it easier for you to lie to me?” he asks.

It’s hard not to end the conversation here. But I was the one who wanted to come clean, so I _can’t_ continue to sidestep his questions.

“It's... easier to be called a liar when you're actually lying,” I explain. “Easier to be rejected over something that isn't true, because then it doesn’t mean anything. If I make myself seem worse than I am, then it doesn’t hurt so much because the person who’s being rejected doesn’t even exist.” It sounds so simple, said out loud like that. I’m not sure if I’ve ever thought about it that way before, or if I’d have ever figured it out if I hadn’t verbalized it. “That’s why I waited for so long before telling you the truth about the day you found me hurt. Why I didn’t tell you… probably everything I’ve never told you.”

I should tell him about Sir. ( _Frigid. Whore._ His hand around my neck, his lips on my skin. Dancing, drinking, feeding the darkness in me.) Sora deserves to know. 

I can’t make the words come out. Or, Sora speaks before I can force myself to.

“...Can you be really honest with me right now? Even if it hurts my feelings?”

That sets me on edge. I feel like this has been a good talk and we might be edging into a dangerous territory.

“...I don’t know if that’s really--”

“What did I do wrong?” Sora blurts it out, disregarding my premature objection. I swallow hard.

“...Sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why... _that_?” Sora asks. “Why heroin? Why can’t I help you? What am I doing wrong?” 

I want to die when he asks me. I knew it. He always has to make my problems his problems. That’s not empathy. I don’t know what it is.

“Nothing. Sora, you’re doing nothing wrong. This was never about you.”

“Then why did you start?” he shoots back. Isn’t that the million dollar question? At the end of the day, I knew better, but I did it anyway. Just like always.

“...I… I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “It happened so slowly... it made me feel normal.”

“I don’t make you feel normal?” I shake my head; not agreeing with him.

“I never feel normal. Period.” When I look back over, I see Sora’s head tilted down, forehead joining his knees. “Sora?”

“You know… during _my_ dark moments… I know it makes no sense, but I started feeling like my love was a death sentence. That I sent you off into a downward spiral because I was too stupid and too broken to love someone right.”

“ _No,_ ” I snap at him, irrationally angry at no specific target. That is the last thing I would _ever_ think about him, he has to know that. “Sora, you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know. Sometimes you’re the only thing that helps me keep my head above water. Don’t you _ever_ think that way, don’t you _ever_ take responsibility for my mistakes. Do you understand me?” Slowly he lifts his head, nodding, still staring out into the distance. “Sora, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

I let out a long breath, willing my flood of emotion to go out with it.

“I think I’d been desperate for relief for so long, and after a certain point…” I shake my head. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Being candid is _hard_. “All of these burdens I carry are inside me now. I’m not fighting for my life, I’m not being abused, and sometimes I still struggle to find happiness. And I’d look at you, and you were _thriving_. I was… jealous, sometimes, I felt weak… I was afraid that if I couldn’t be happy all the time in a relationship I care about, could I ever be happy?” Sora goes to speak; I cut him off. “The first time I smoked Opium, it was like my head was quiet for the first time in my entire memory. I thought I could rely on it every once in a while, just when things got bad and nothing else worked. When I started heavier stuff, I even told myself it was just to kill time while you were at camp and I’d stop once you were back. Then it became ‘at the end of summer’. But I’d already lost control at that point.” I roll my eyes at my own idiocy. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a little stress release?”

Sora looks over at me, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I have some ideas.” Levity. Thank God. We laugh together, mood instantly light. “No one’s happy all the time, Riku.”

“You’re just doing _so_ much better than me.” 

Sora rubs the back of his head, looking bashful.

“Wow, we’re… _really_ different people. I always thought you were doing better than _me_. Well, up until this summer, anyway.” He shoots me an apologetic look.

“Huh?”

“I’ve always wanted to be more like you,” Sora says. Why would anyone _ever_ want to subject themselves to that? “Yeah. I’ve always really admired you.”

“...I admire you,” I confess. It starts as an empty platitude, comes out automatically because it feels like the right thing to say, but then I realize it’s the absolute truth. “I know we had our issues when we first met… I didn’t know what to make of you… but I really, really would think more like you if I could.”

Sora grins.

“Aw.”

I want to hold him. Almost reach out for him. I have one question first.

“Hey, Sora.”

“Yeah?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Go for it.”

“...How can you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?” 

I expect the air between us to get heavy again, but he just shrugs.

“Making mistakes doesn’t make you a bad person,” he says. “And I love you. It’s as easy as that.”

“I want to be someone you can trust,” I return. “Do you think you can ever trust me again?” There’s maybe a note of accusation in my words. It’s a _how_ , a _how could you ever bring yourself to…?_

He just shrugs again.

“I have to. I can’t be in a relationship if there’s no trust.” He snorts. “I know that’s not a problem for _you_ but…” I shake my head, correcting him.

“I trust you, Sora.”

“… Yeah?”

...Then I think better of it.

“More than I trust anyone else, at least.” 

Now he’s rolling his eyes, flattening his legs out and propping himself on open palms. Head tilted up, he laughs at the sky.

“There it is,” he says, like he can’t even be surprised. I laugh, too; at myself, I think. 

“Hey, let’s get going,” I say, rising to my feet and helping Sora to his while I’m at it, grabbing his wrists and yanking _up_. “I’m starting to get cold.”

“Mmkay.”

We hoist ourselves over the wire fence, making our way down the main road. I sling my arm over his shoulders as we walk, the two of us content and silent until we get back into our neighborhood. I need to tell Sora about Sir. 

“When I was clubbing a lot…” I say, suddenly enough that Sora gives a little start.

“Hm?”

Deep breath. Fight the panic. Start small, maybe?

“People used to buy me drinks,” I finish. Sora’s demeanour doesn’t change even a little.

“Well, yeah,” he responds. “Look at you.” Stupidly, I blush. “Wait, did they know you were a minor?”

“...Maybe?”

His nose wrinkles.

“Gross.” Yeah, probably a fair assessment. I reach up to ruffle Sora’s hair, savoring the way he laughs and pulls in closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. And that’s when I realize I can’t tell him yet, about _that_ night. This isn’t about him: I’m still scared, I’m still ashamed, I still need to sort this out. I need time and distance.

But I know what I _can_ do.

“Something bad happened at my club once,” I say. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet, but… something bad happened.”

“Something bad… legally?” Sora guesses, maybe a hint of apprehension in his voice. I shake my head. I mean, not worse than any of the other illegal things I’d been up to at that point. “Something you can get in trouble for?” I shake my head again. “ ...Did someone die?” Not a person. Something inside me, maybe, a certain naivety. But I shake my head again.

“No,” I answer. “It’s not. It’s not _dire_ , it just… messed me up for a while.”

I can see Sora debate with himself; I see it in his eyes, he wants to ask. 

“Okay,” he says instead. “Well… thanks for telling me, I think.”

When we reach the house, he kisses me at the stoop before walking in. I wait a second before following.

Run away with me, Sora. Stay with me.


	35. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora makes some tough decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF THE INCREASED RATING- more notes at the end of the chapter, particularly for those who may not appreciate the bump to Explicit (ie: I'll tell you where to skip and where to tune back in.)

It’s kinda funny that Riku’s finally letting himself be open with me, and here I am sitting on a massive secret.

Nathan was here. He knows Riku’s alive and where to find him. That had--and still has--the potential to be completely life-changing… and Riku hasn’t mentioned it at all.

The fact that it hasn’t come up, and that Riku seems so light and happy… either they had a _really_ good talk, or Riku has no memory of Nathan coming to visit at all. Given what Nathan said when he left the room (“He’s pretty out-of-it”, I’ve been replaying and overanalyzing those words _ever since_ ), I’m guessing it’s the latter.

Riku’s always been terrified of being found by anyone from his hometown. He handled Noah’s reappearance well--almost too well, that little jealous part of me wants to say--but his dad… that’s something else.

Would knowing what happened hurt Riku? Would it help? Would it hurt _then_ help? I just can’t make up my mind.

This whole situation makes me wonder about someone else I care deeply about, too.

It's been a month since Axel died and Roxas doesn't know a thing. Should he? They were friends for a long time… but in the end, things got so bad that Roxas’ family left the city to keep them apart. That’s some serious stuff.

I also think that Axel has been dead to Roxas for a long time now. I don’t know how he feels about Axel anymore, but I _do_ know that relationships with people who hurt you can be complicated if you’ve ever loved or trusted them, and I think that there _was_ love between Axel and Roxas. They were _friends_.

Sometimes I think about Axel’s revelation in his final moments, about how he failed to protect Roxas, and I’m so mad at him for screwing things up. He should never have gotten Roxas dragged into that world, should never have treated Roxas like an adult when he was still just a kid, should never have laid a single finger on him--ever.

How hard is it to _not_ force yourself on someone? I’m attracted to Riku all the time and I can’t imagine ever doing something to him that he wouldn’t like or want. I know Axel had a rough life, if he wasn’t just toying with me when he said those things about being kicked out of the house and dropping out of school. But he didn’t need to make things harder for other people. He didn’t need to hurt Roxas.

But he regretted it. But he still _did_ it.

Maybe he wasn’t capable of controlling himself. Maybe he was in too deep. Maybe he didn’t care.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I go in circles all the time but still can’t come up with any answers, just more awful details to fixate on. When Roxas talked to me, he couldn’t even bring himself to say Axel’s name. I don’t know if Roxas carries those memories around with him everywhere or if he’s ready to put all that stuff behind him. But how can you move on when you’re under the impression that the person who hurt you lives only thirty minutes away?

Roxas deserves closure. He deserves to know that he can't ever be hurt by those people again, that it's over, he can move on.

Okay, that's _one_ settled.

“Hey,” Riku prompts, looking up at me with more than a small hint of impatience. For once he’s the one watching TV while _I_ work, trying to get ahead in some reading for my lit class… if my mind could just stop _wandering already_. If nothing else, these secrets are gonna make me flunk outta high school. I resume stroking his hair at my normal pace, leaning down slightly to plant a kiss on the top of his head in apology. I guess I slowed down to almost a stop while I was thinking.

As nice as it is to laze on the couch with Riku lounging between my legs, his head on my chest, I gotta get moving before I lose my nerve. Trying to jostle him as little as possible, I reach for my phone, which earns me another, “Hey?”

“Needy,” I chide him, one hand back on his head, massaging his scalp, as I pick up my phone with the other. One-handed, I punch in a quick message and send it off.

_Hey, you home?_

Roxas’ response comes quickly. _Yup. y?_

_I need to tell you something in person. Now ok?_

He waits a little longer this time, or maybe he’s distracted with something.

_Uhhh sure._

Okay. Here goes nothing.

“Sorry, Riku,” I grunt, taking him gently by the shoulder and giving him a push till he straightens. I ignore his little _what gives?_ to wrap my arms around him from behind, giving him a big ol’ smooch at the base of his neck and inhaling a good amount of hair in the process. “I gotta go. We can pick this up later.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Roxas’,” I tell him, sliding on my shoes and grabbing my keys from where I dropped them on the table when I came downstairs. “I have to tell him something really important,” I add before Riku can look too sour over it. Riku doesn’t seem to like Roxas a lot; I’m inclined to think it’s because we spent so much time together over the summer and winter breaks. I know Riku tends toward jealousy, but honestly who knows with him sometimes...

“Is it about Axel?” Riku guesses. I literally jump, almost dropping my keys.

“Axel mentioned something to you,” I guess in return. I wonder if that’s what’s causing Riku to distrust Roxas so strongly. “I don’t know what he said, but…” I’m trying not to say in so many words that Axel’s account of the story may not be the more accurate of the two. Riku shrugs.

“Does it matter?” he asks. Yes. No. I have no idea. Sometimes knowing where someone’s coming from helps, but this isn’t exactly a ‘both sides are valid’ kind of situation, in my opinion.

“...Nah,” I say finally. “I guess not.”

*

Nerves eat at me the entire way to Roxas’ place. I think I'm doing the right thing... that's all that matters. I hope.

When I reach Roxas's house I knock twice before ringing the doorbell. It seems to take forever for someone to acknowledge me but it really doesn't, I'm just impatient and want this over with already.

Roxas’ stepmom answers as usual, giving me a friendly but surprised greeting as I slide in. I’m so intent on reaching Roxas’ room I barely remember to thank her as I go.

"Hey," Roxas says, pulling his headphones off his head as he sees me. "Where’s the fire?" I don't say anything for a moment, taking a seat on his bed and bracing myself. The whole drive here I was rehearsing what I was going to say, how I was going to break it to him as gently as possible. Now I can’t remember a single word. "...Sora, what's up?"

"Axel died,” I say instead. Roxas straightens, his face drops into a look of pure surprise.

"...Wait, did you say _Axel_?" he asks. I nod. "How did you even--Who--"

I scramble to explain, feeling almost like I need to defend myself as I tell him that we met once, sort of, by mistake.

“Riku knew him,” I add, almost like a disclaimer absolving me of any responsibility, which isn’t fair. Roxas’ eyes narrow as he stares down at the floor. Roxas doesn’t seem to like Riku much more than Riku likes him, and I’m sure this situation isn’t going to endear them to each other. “You remember that one night we went to go find him at that club?” I ask. Roxas nods. “I had a run-in with Axel before I called you. I didn’t know for sure that he was the friend you told me about until later.”

“He didn’t… he wasn’t--” he struggles for words for a moment, finally coming up with: “He wasn’t inappropriate with you in any way, right?” I shake my head.

“He kind of helped me out of a jam and sent me on my way.”

Roxas scoffs. “That was nice of him,” he mutters darkly. I don’t reply; I don’t know what to say. “You’re _sure_ he… um. That he’s really...”

The need to protect him bubbles up again but I need to bite it down, because lies now only mean explanations later.

"I was there," I tell him, gently as I can. He jumps off the bed, onto his feet, eyes blazing.

" _What_?"

"I was looking for Riku one night when he didn't come home and... I found Axel instead." Tripped over him, really, but I guess Roxas doesn’t need to know that. I watch him closely, looking for any indicator that I should stop talking. The more intently he stares, the more detail I find it safe to divulge. "He was hurt… he’d been stabbed.” What little color remained in Roxas’ face drains out and he swallows hard, sitting back down. “He, um. He mentioned you. Before he... before he died.”

Roxas looks positively dumbfounded, eyes wide and unfixed, shoulders low and body limp.

“Oh.”

“I think he regretted what he did.”

“Oh, cool,” he says, then scoffs again, blinking hard. “That doesn’t change anything.” His hands curl into fists then unfurl and raise before dropping back to his sides. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “And now I can’t even talk to him about it.”

“Would you want to?” I ask gently. He shakes his head.

“I don’t know.”

For a long time, we leave it at that. Only when I’m sure he’s not going to cry or lash out do I rest a gentle hand on his upper back.

“I’m really sorry,” I tell him. “About all of this.”

"I... don't really know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything. I don’t really think there’s a right or wrong way to feel right now." Roxas nods, but I don’t know if he’s really hearing me. “I didn’t know if I should tell you or not… I really didn’t do this to make you upset.” He swallows hard.

“Yeah… I know.”

I give him another second.

“Hey, I’m on your side, okay?” I say. “But… I did try to be as much of a comfort to him as possible. He wasn’t alone.” I almost say, _and neither are you_ , but the last thing I want to do is insert Roxas into a scene I’m sure we wants no part of by making a tasteless comparison. Instead, I say the only thing I can think of. “Do you want a hug?” His answer is succinct.

“I want to be alone.”

Slowly I draw my hand away, rise from the bed, and leave. I hope he gives himself the chance to mourn his losses however he needs to.

The following day, Roxas doesn't show up to any of his classes. When I call, his stepmom tells me he's not feeling well and that I'll see him at school tomorrow.

*

I can’t believe Spring is almost here _again_. It’s like this year has been going double-time since Riku quit heroin two months ago-- and he’s doing great! He still struggles sometimes, but he seems genuinely happy, quick to volunteer updates when he’s having cravings or feeling down.

So I can’t tell him about Nathan, right? Even after I’ve pushed him for years to be honest with me? Even though I know firsthand that lies can _never_ protect you from the truth?

Everything is so good between Riku and me right now, and between Riku and Dad too...

Things between me and Dad, on the other hand, have been a little tense. We’re not fighting or anything, but I’m still miffed about him going behind our backs and haven’t been great about hiding it.

Dad’s the one to broach it, one lazy afternoon when Riku’s taking a nap upstairs and I’m doing dishes after baking some chocolate chip brownies. Kairi’s birthday is Monday and I want to have something for her, since I’m waiting till her currently-TBA party to get her a gift. Gives me more time to think about what to buy, which is just another thought to add into the swirling vortex that is my brain at the moment. Someday life’s gonna be simple, right?

“You look like you’re thinking up a storm, kiddo,” Dad says, picking a piece of a brownie corner that fell off and popping it into his mouth.

“Are you going to tell me the real reason you had Riku’s dad come down?” I ask, more coldly than intended. Dad’s chewing slows.

“I did tell you the reason,” he says.

I snort through my nose, turning off the tap as I start putting rinsed dishes in the dishwasher. Right. The whole “Riku’s parents deserve to know he’s alive” line. I don’t know why I can’t buy it. I just… can’t.

“Why _now_ , with everything else going on?” I ask. Dad’s quiet for a long time before he responds, maybe gauging whether he should tell me the truth.

“The morning I found Riku, I didn’t know what was happening. I wasn’t completely sure if he’d even make it to the hospital at first.”

“ _And you didn’t wake me up_?” I whip around to face him. “You’d--you would just let me _sleep in_ while my boyfriend could’ve been _dying_ downstairs?”

“Sora!” Dad interrupts me with a harsh edge to his voice, sounding exasperated in a way I’ve never heard turned on me before. “My _first_ focus was making sure that Riku was still breathing. If he needed CPR, I wasn’t going to lose time by running upstairs and jarring you awake. I didn’t _know_ if this was a life-or-death situation. Okay? Everything turned out fine, so _please_ calm down.” I have to begrudgingly admit that that tiny piece of the puzzle makes sense, but I still want to fight.

“Riku stirred a few seconds after I checked his pulse, so I got him into the car and we drove over to the hospital. He was babbling nonsense the entire time, and I worked to keep him talking so he wouldn’t slip back into unconsciousness. If at any point between Riku waking and me getting him into the car I thought we might lose him, I would have yanked you out of bed and brought you with us.” He thinks for a moment. “And I’d have called an ambulance.”

Okay…

“So where does Nathan come into all of this?” I ask.

“I thought it was right to let two people know that their son was sick, but alive.” _How?!_ How could it possibly be right to put Riku in danger like that?

“That was _Riku’s_ decision," I argue. "And you took that away from him.”

Dad looks me in the eye. “Do you really think that I wouldn’t have left it up to him if things had turned out any other way? His parents needed to know that he was in the hospital. End of story.” He sighs again. “Sora, I know where you’re coming from. I do. You love Riku as a boyfriend; I love him as a son. Sometimes that’s going to put us at odds, but you have to trust me to do the right thing.” I shake my head.

“You don’t understand what his dad was like.”

“I do.” _What?_ “Riku told me all about him.” Riku… he… _what_?

“...He told you?” When did _that_ happen? “That means he trusts you, and you--you betrayed him!” The breath Dad lets out comes harder; I think I might have crossed a line with that one.

“Do you think I would have done _anything_ to put Riku at risk?” Well, when he puts it that way...

“...No.”

“It’s not like I called up two strangers at random and said, ‘hey, how do you feel like co-parenting a kid you don’t know anymore for the next few months?’ I take Riku’s trust and safety both _very_ seriously. I didn’t reach out with the intention of giving out Riku’s location right away: I only gave his father the information I did once it became clear, _to me_ , that this man was not going to put Riku in any immediate danger, _including_ trying to take Riku away from us.”

Anger dropping to a simmer, I let myself take some kind of comfort out of what Dad said. I love him, and I really do trust him… but I don’t know if he always makes good decisions when he’s panicking. Contacting Riku’s family could have had the same impact on Riku that Dad leaving had on me, and--wait, am I honestly _still_ hurting about that?

Truthfully… I can’t always tell.

But maybe that’s part of why it was so important to Dad for Nathan to come back into the picture, like if Nathan and Riku were reunited, it would somehow make up for the years Dad and I spent apart. I understand that line of thinking more than I want to admit. I still don’t agree with what Dad did, but maybe there’s more to this decision than even he realizes.

Well, either way it’s done now, and all we can do is hope for the best. There’s still one thing I can’t figure out.

“Why _did_ Riku’s dad show up?” I ask. “And why wasn’t his mom there?” I think back to everything Riku’s told me about his mom, and about how they got along… why wouldn’t she jump at the chance to be there for him, especially after she let Nathan do what he did for so long? “Do you think he didn’t let her go?”

“I don’t know, Sora,” Dad replies. My mind is churning explanations, each worst than the last.

“Do you think they got divorced?" Oh _no_ \-- "Do you think she _died_?”

“I don’t _know_ , Sora,” Dad repeats, exasperated. “I only spoke to _him_ , he might have said ‘we’ at some point, but I honestly don’t know what went into their decision making. Remember that Riku’s mother is _sick_ , she may not have been able to make the trip.” Okay, so Dad knows that too, then. It’s still weird. It’s still all so weird.

With that out of the way… sort of… there are a couple of things I’m dying to know.

“So… what was Nathan like?” I ask. “When you talked to him?” Dad shrugs. A stair creaks and we both start, afraid that Riku’s heading down and may have overheard. But it’s nothing--just the house setting.

“Seemed like a normal guy to me,” Dad replies once we confirm we’re still alone. I wait, hoping to get more information, but nothing comes. Okay. Fine. Next topic.

“...Riku doesn’t seem to remember Nathan visiting.”

Dad doesn’t look too concerned or surprised.

“Yeah, that’s the impression I got, too,” he says. I bask in our moment of calm before knowingly rocking the boat.

“I think we need to tell him.”

Dad doesn’t seem surprised by that, either.

“I would prefer it if you leave it to me,” he replies tactfully. “I’ll tell him when he’s ready.”

“...I think I really need to tell him.”

“Not while he’s still recovering.”

“You found Riku’s parents because you thought it was right for him,” I huff. “This is what _I_ think is right.” For a long time, Dad and I stare each other down. Then he sighs, throwing his hands in the air in defeat.

“Well, it’s not like I can stop you two from talking,” he says. “I just ask that you hold off and really think about this, Sora.”

I _have_ thought about it. It’s all I’ve _been_ thinking about.

I see a future where Dad and I keep this to ourselves and Riku goes his whole life not realizing that his father cared enough to see him when he was sick. I see a future where we hold onto this and, when we finally tell Riku, he’s hurt because he knew we thought he couldn’t handle it.

“You can have a whole one if you want,” I say, catching Dad pick up another sizable brownie crumb. He takes a brownie from the top of the pile and ruffles my hair with a free hand as he heads into the living room.

I think of Riku and Nathan and Roxas and Axel. The first time I saw Roxas after saying what I did, he seemed _lighter_. He was tired and distracted and a little touchy, but he processed it and came to whatever conclusion he needed to and now I think he’s okay.

It’s better just to tell Riku now and get it over with. Or else it’s going to eat away at us forever.

*

I don’t wake Riku from his nap to deliver the news, but I do hang around until he starts to stir on his own, bleary eyes popping open as he rises, stretching.

“Hey,” he says, noticing me just sort of hanging out in a corner, working at a handheld game I haven’t touched in a while.

“Hey!” I’m quick to rise, moving to him to kiss him properly awake. He pushes me off with a sleepy chuckle, only to free his arm and sling it around my waist. He plants one right on me, and it’s all I can do not to sink into it and let this go however far it goes. I think I’m already mourning how easy things are right now, because what I’m going to tell him… it’s going to be hard. “Hey, Riku. I gotta tell you something.”

“Hm?”

I pull away to take a seat next to him on the bed, my legs folded in front of me. Here goes.

“I’m really glad you’ve been so honest with me these last few weeks,” I tell him. “I know it hasn’t been easy and that it’s hard to come out and say something that you think might be hurtful or hard to bear, but it really is for the best to have things out in the open.”

Riku’s staring at me like he has _no idea_ what I’m going on about.

“...Okay,” he responds. “Yeah. I hear you.”

I consider holding his hand, but don’t. I don’t want to set off any more alarm bells.

“I never want to do anything that makes you feel like you can’t trust me, or Dad. That’s all.”

“Um, okay.”

I almost leave it there.

Almost.

“Riku, I have to tell you about something that happened when you were in the hospital.” He’s tense. Whatever he’s thinking… I know it isn’t what I’m gonna tell him. “Your father came to visit you.” He stares at me blankly, blinking.

Riku’s face is still blank, but he’s examining me closely now, eyes narrowing. He’s quiet for ages, but I swear I can hear the wheels turning in his head, about what this means, or might mean, or…

“Sora…” he starts.

Then he reacts in a way I’ve never seen him react to anything, ever, in the entire time I’ve ever known him:

Total denial.

“That’s not even possible,” he says finally, shaking his head. He runs a hand over my hair, giving me this pitying look, a gentle smile paired with pinched brows. “You must’ve been dreaming.”

_Dreaming?!_

“What--no, Riku, it’s true--he was there--” Riku shakes his head again.

“Sora, it makes _no sense._ First someone would have to find him and get in touch with him, then Nathan would have to _want_ to see me to come out all this way. We both know that would never happen.” Wrong. Apparently. Man, he’s getting _so_ close and still can’t manage to see the whole picture. “And even if he did, it’s not like he’d be happy to see me after I up and left…”

His eyes wander to the ceiling as he thinks aloud. “If he knew where I was, there’s a chance the city would’ve been leveled by Hurricane Nathan by now. Sora, you’ve gone through a lot this year and I’m sure you were exhausted when you came to visit me. I don’t know what you think happened, but it _wasn’t_ _that_.”

I’m stunned, staring after him with an open mouth as he stands, crossing the room and throwing the door open.

“Hey, what smells so good?” he asks. “Did you bake something?” It takes a sec for me to realize he’s asking me a question.

“Um, yeah--brownies for Kairi’s birthday. There’s a ton, you can have one early if you want.”

“Maybe later.”

He disappears out the door, but not before letting me know he’s going to make tea then head out to the balcony if I need to find him.

I remember to close my mouth.

Okay… maybe Dad was right about one thing: Riku isn’t ready to process this. I won’t push him in either direction. I’ll just make sure that when he’s ready to come to terms with it, I’m here.

*

If I thought there was a chance Riku was feigning his reaction to my news, I was dead wrong. He’s never brought it up and seems uninterested in broaching the subject further. That’s fine. He’s not pulling away any, either, and I think _that’s_ the best sign I could ask for.

Really, he’s seeming to get better and better--and it reflects outwardly, too. He looks less tired and sunken in, the bags under his eyes fading, a healthy pink tone returning to his clearer, smoother skin. His hair is always clean, and fluffier, too, even though he’s a little overdue for a trim.

Then he starts gaining weight and it only helps further. The extra twenty pounds make him appear stronger and healthier, not quite so _gaunt_. For a good couple of weeks he’s soft and cute and super, super huggable from eating well, eating consistently, and eating a _lot_. Then he starts hitting the weight room tucked into our school’s gymnasium three days a week. It’s not long before he’s fucking _built_.

And, um.

...Riku has this one older pair of jeans he still wears, despite mostly having new clothes again. They fit loose when he first bought them but now they hug his legs and ass, snug around the hips and leaving little to the imagination for someone who _knows_ the size of his dick, what it feels like hard and ready to go off… between the workouts I watch from the bleachers and his outfits that fit a little _too_ well, he’s blessed me with more masturbation fodder than I even know what to do with anymore.

Let it be known that Riku Imakura is a _gift_. He makes me so happy to be _so_ gay.

Correction: he makes me happy in every way that a person can possibly be happy. Security? Got it. Safety? Got that too. Fun and joy and excitement and all that? Got it in spades. I love him more than I’ve ever loved him and the novelty of having him back in my bed or next to me or on top of me hasn’t gone away even a little. I want to keep the momentum going, I just need to figure out how, especially where things are headed.

Riku’s going to college. We haven’t talked about it, but I know it’s happening. And then he’ll probably move out, since virtually all of the schools out here are a significant commute away and I know he’s gonna get restless staying in this house. I know he loves me, and I think he’s mostly happy here, but he’s not the kind of guy who’s going to be content living at home for much longer.

There’s a part of me that’s afraid of what might happen if we’re away from each other for an entire year. But with where things are now... the only _real_ step forward, the only thing that would for sure keep us from getting separated, would be marriage, right? Man, that’s wild to think about, but it’s true.

If we were engaged the whole year he’s away, we’d having a wedding to look forward to and a whole future to plan. If we were engaged, neither of us would worry about the other finding someone new. If we were engaged… everything would change.

...Oh, duh.

I’m going to ask him to marry me.

*

It takes a couple weeks, but I land a job at the convenience store closest to my house so it’s a pretty quick jaunt there and back. Gotta buy a ring, right? So three days a week, five hours each, I'm restocking shelves and working the cash register. I'm lucky that the manager likes me enough during the interview to overlook the fact that I'm sixteen and hiring a minor makes all kind of weird legal things come up, like that I can't work full-time, do closing shifts, or sell alcohol. But that's okay, because I'm saving--almost-- every penny of the $10.50 an hour I earn, and it all adds up really quickly.

My first week of employment I'm going to jewelers, looking at rings, scoping out prices and selections, even though I'm learning that the market for men's engagement rings is almost non-existent. I want to buy something he’ll want to wear… but I also want people to see it and think ‘that’s an engagement ring’. I wonder if I can find out Riku's ring size without him catching on?

It takes a couple trips to a couple different shopping centers, but I think I finally found something perfect for him: a white gold band with three large diamonds clustered together, surrounded on both sides by smaller stones. It's definitely gonna get some attention when he shows up to graduation with that thing on his finger.

Let's do this.

*

My friends are troopers through this whole phase of my relationship with Riku, taking my gushing in stride with only a little groaning and teasing (and one awkward, passive-aggressive anniversary gift for us once the date arrives.)

The passing of our anniversary in May only affirms my decision, but it doesn't really feel real until I buy the ring in early June. Holding that little velvet box on the way from the jeweler to my car feels so _right_ and I haven’t second-guessed my choice in ring style even once, either. It’s gonna look _so_ _good_ on him.

I can’t wait to get this rolling. The moment I’m home I ask Riku if he’s got plans (to which he responds with a mildly sarcastic, “Do I ever? Do I ever even leave the house anymore?” that catches me off guard until he throws his head back, laughing). That’s a no, I guess. I ask if he wants me to cook dinner, maybe do something after. He just shrugs.

“Sure.”

Okay, great. Now it’ll just be a matter of figuring this out so we can be alone and in private… and figuring out what I’m going to make.

For the first time, the nerves set in.

Shit, I hope this goes well. I hope he says yes. I hope he wants to do this as badly as I do. But he’s the one who brought it up in the first place, all that stuff about eloping from way back... Sure, he was withdrawing from heroin and probably in his right mind a whopping 20 percent of the time, but...

But I’m not backing out. I _know_ this is the right thing to do. If nothing else, Riku needs to know how seriously I take our relationship. He needs to know that I'm in this for as long as he'll have me, that I never wanna be apart.

With the money from my final paycheck, I go to the market and stock up on all of his favorite things. If everything goes wrong, at least we'll have a damn good dinner first.

*

At four I start setting up, painstakingly dragging two folding chairs and a collapsible table out onto the balcony. It all fits, but it is kind of a tight squeeze… I hope Riku doesn't mind the invasion of his space. This has always been Riku's private spot when he's rooming with me, a place where he can go if he needs to be alone. I've always done my best to respect that, but I think it also makes sense to do this here, in a place with sentimental value to him.

At 4:30 I start dinner, with the anticipation of finishing by six. By then, I'm taking up hot bowls full of this spicy chicken soup he likes, balancing a big plate of salad and some strawberries and cream for dessert.

When I see Riku through the glass door, sitting at the table, my heart swells. I don't think I could ever love anyone the way I love him, and to think that I almost lost him so many times this year… there is _no_ hesitation on my side. Not a bit.

When he notices me, he rises from the table and squeezes over to the door, throwing it open.

"You should've gotten a job as a waiter," Riku comments as I begin to set up the table, dropping silverware and napkins clumsily down before following more carefully with the food. "...I can help, you know."

"Nah," I say, sliding everything into place now that my hands and arms are free. A stray piece of lettuce is the only casualty, dropping onto the table then the floor as I push the big salad bowl over. "This is for you, babe."

Riku rolls his eyes but smiles all the same. I check my pocket for like the ten millionth time. But the ring's right where it should be, and I'm fine, and Riku's fine, and everything is fine.

"What's the occasion?" Riku asks. I shrug, all innocent. I want to wait until we've finished eating to say anything… plus, I wouldn't be able to live it down if Riku thought he had to _prompt_ me to ask.

We talk school and work, with Riku still looking for a job when he can and my stint at the convenience store ending, talk about summer with maybe a hint of nervousness of what's to come when Riku figures out what he's going to do with… his whole life, I guess. Hopefully tonight will get one uncertainty out of the way.

"Hey, Riku?" I croak once we've polished off the strawberries and the sun is beginning to set. I clear my throat, taking a sip of water. I _might_ have interrupted him finishing a thought about a book he's reading, but I don't think so.

"What?" he asks.

"...I know things have been rough a lot. This year especially, but… just in general. I know we were both in weird places in our lives when we met, so it was always gonna take a lot of work." Riku opens his mouth to speak, but I keep going. "We had to grow as people in order to grow together, but at the same time… I don't think we'd be the people we are today if we hadn't met. I've learned so much from you, you inspire me to be better, to work harder… I've never been as happy and confident as I am now, and you've had so much to do with that. Sometimes I can't believe how this all started, and where it's ended up."

"And where's that?" Riku asks.

"Happiness, I guess."

"...Yeah," he agrees. "Happiness."

A flock of birds are startled out of a tree somewhere behind Riku. As the sun continues to dip, the breeze turns a little cooler; a little too cool. I'm glad we're huddled in so close. The first of the stars are out, but it's still light enough to see clearly, for miles and miles if we got up high enough. Somewhere in the background I hear a click and the sound of someone's sprinklers turning on.

Now or never, Sora.

"A while back, you said you wanted to run away together. Well, we can't do that. But I think I know what we _can_ do."

Riku snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"We could get married."

"Married?" he repeats, incredulously, like he's never heard of the concept.

"Would you, if I asked?"

"Would..."

I pull the little velvet box from my pocket and pop it open, presenting it to him. Presenting myself to him, my life and love and entire future. Have I ever done anything else?

"Because I'm asking, Riku."

"...would I..." He stares at me, eyes wide, face unmoving. "Would I--" he sputters. "I… I don't know." Okay. Okay, I can work with that, no problem.

I move a hand over his, flinching when he draws it back and away.

"What are you thinking?" I ask. "What's going on in your head right now? You can tell me." He's breathing a little hard, eyes darting to the ring and up to me then down again.

"I just. I wasn't expecting this," he stammers. "With everything going on I just really--I never would have expected you to do something like this right now." Unconsciously, my face drags into a thoughtful frown. Is he… is he _mad_ at me? "We've never talked about this before, I don't, I don't even know where I'm going to be next fall--"

"This doesn't change anything," I tell him, surprisingly calm in the face of his panic, only wishing he'd let me touch him right now to soothe him further. "If you say yes, we get engaged, and we stay engaged for however long it takes for everything to settle down. You're going to be in college by the time I start applying, so obviously I'm only going to look at places close to wherever you end up."

"Sora, _no_ ," Riku sounds pained as he says it, enough that I don't have my own spike of panic at the word. No? "You can't shape your future around me. I won't let you do that." I shake my head.

"I don't know what I want to do with my life, all I know is that I want to do it with you. I wouldn't be sacrificing anything. College is college. I don't care where I go. I really don't."

"We still might be away from each other for a year. Sora-- Sora you were gone for three weeks during the _summer_ and I almost destroyed myself--how--how are we--"

Don't go. Stay at home. Take a gap year. Go to the same school as me. I have so many suggestions he won't take, because that's not who he is. I know he'll want to leave. Above everything else, he's always been impatient and stubborn... I just want to know he'll take me with him when he goes.

"I think that… whatever happens next year… it's going to be hard. It's going to be hard not seeing each other first thing in the morning and last thing before we sleep at night, and not eating together, and not just--knowing the other is _right there_ … but we've done it before, and we can do it again, and we can do it _knowing_ that it's just September to July, and then we'll be _married_. That's forever." Riku shakes his head.

"Marriage isn't forever," he says darkly. "You should know that better than anyone." He shakes his head again, his voice comes out quietly. "Please don't say forever if you don't mean forever."

He has no idea that this is me trying desperately to keep _him_ in _my_ life. There's always been an irrational part of me that felt like Riku's drive to leave comes from a place of not loving me the way I love him… now I'm fairly sure part of it is because he's scared of me leaving first.

"When do I ever say stuff I don't mean?" I ask him.

"You don't know what you'll mean next year, or ten years from now." He's right, but I shrug, not letting that worry me.

"Yeah, you're right. We can't predict the future, but I think we can learn from the past. We're going to keep growing together, I know it."

"...Can you honestly say that you'll be happy married to a junkie?" he asks, and it breaks my heart. "You really think you're not going to get tired of--Sora. Sora, I am _crazy_. I'm literally _crazy_ , you really think--" Okay, that's enough of that.

"I know who you are," I say coolly. It shuts him up to the point that he seems to go from 10 to 0 like _that_. "The person I want to be with is sitting right here in front of me. It's really not as hard as you're making it sound. And when things are bad, I'll take care of you. I _want_ to take care of you." He shakes his head, closer to tears than I've ever seen him. I knew he'd be surprised, I didn't think he'd be _rattled._

"I can't let you. I can't--I can't have you do _everything_ because I can't function on my own--I don't want your life to be driving me to the hospital every few weeks and having to explain to people why I'm gone all the time, or why I don't leave the house or--or have to justify, all the time, why you chose to stay--I don't want to be someone you can't leave if I make you unhappy--"

"We aren't going to be your parents." I say it gently, knowing how sore this is for him. "And we're not going to be mine, either."

"Of course _we_ won't be my parents," Riku says. "I'm going to be both of them. I can't run away from--from my fucking _genes_." Okay, this is all new to me. How long has this been eating away at him?

"You won't," I tell him. "I'd never let that happen. I love you and I'm going to take care of you, and you're going to take care of me the way you _always have_. This isn't special treatment… this is us being _equal_." I stack my empty bowls, pushing them to the side. "You done?"

"Huh? Oh--yeah."

I take Riku's bowls, too, adding them to the stack. Then I snap the ring box shut, pushing it into Riku's hands.

"Hold onto this," I tell him. "Think about what you want to do. I'm not changing my mind, but I'm not going to force you to marry me, either." He holds the little velvet box like he might break it if he isn't careful.

"...Can we go inside now?" he asks, voice small. I nod, rising.

"Yeah. Let's go inside."

I head into the bathroom to wash my hands, coming back to find Riku sitting on the bed, the box still clasped tightly in his hands. I pass him on my way to close the door to the balcony, leg brushing the corner of the mattress and Riku's knee on my way back. He shuts his eyes, head tilted up to me. Message received, loud and clear.

Leaning slightly, I kiss him, swiping tongue the instant he opens his mouth. He seems nervous, unsure, body still in a way that isn't like him anymore--he lets me explore him without helping or hindering, leaving me to guess at what we wants. I wonder if this is what happens when _he_ doesn't know what he wants, either, just that he wants… me?

I slide a palm over his cheek, cupping the left side of his face and catching strands of silky hair in my fingers. I let the fingers on my free hand dance their way down his body, coming to stroke in between his legs… it spurs him into action like I hoped it would, and he melts onto the mattress as he returns my kiss. I let myself fall with him.

I pull my knees up on the bed, hands planted on either side of his head, dipping down to keep our lips together, my lower body brushing his groin near-constantly. I don't know about him, but that's sure getting _me_ worked up.

He places gentle hands on my back, urging me down, and I flatten on top of him. Good... wasn't sure how much space to give him.

We migrate into the center of the bed, losing articles of clothing till we've got nothing on. Being naked together isn't new--we've gotten to know each other under the sheets pretty well over the past few months. But this… we've never been _this_ close before, flush on top of each other, the room still light enough to _see_ if either of us were willing to pull back. And I want that, I want to know, but… I just can't seem to get off him. He's all warm, soft skin over hard muscle, smooth until I hit jagged scars on his arms or sides. He doesn't hesitate when I touch them, not even a little, running my fingertips gently over the evidence of abuse long passed. Proof he survived.

I feel unrushed, unhurried, content to tangle my fingers in his hair and taste him endlessly, but when he pulls back with this glossy _look_ in his eyes… I'm ready for that, too.

"It's not that I _don't_ want to marry you--" he gasps; we're both panting, desperate for air.

"I know--"

"I just--have a lot to think about--"

"Then think about it." My breathlessness gives my voice a harsh edge I don't want, so I stop, collect myself, catch my breath. "...And we'll keep talking about it, and we'll figure it all out together just like we always do. We'll figure out want we want." I expect him to think about it more, but surprisingly, his response is instant.

"I know what I want."

"Yeah?"

"I want to be close to you," he says. The second time it comes out quieter. "I want to be so close to you." I look up at him, wondering if he knows how that sounds, and he looks back at me… and I think we both know. It's time.

I'm ready. So, so ready.

I kiss him, trying to get in his mouth again, when his eyes pop open.

"Wait," Riku says, and I hate to admit it, but my heart _almost_ drops a little. "Condoms."

Oh. Right. I kinda forgot about the... logistics of all this. Ready doesn't equal prepared, I guess.

"All our results came back clean," I say, thinking aloud. "You haven't injected anything or seen anyone else since we got back together." I give a little upward lilt to the statement, making it a question at the last moment.

"Absolutely not," he says firmly. "And I know you haven't been with anyone since we got back together, either. So...yeah. "

"Yeah," I repeat, and we're kissing again. Well, almost. "Hold on." Riku looks up at me with this quizzical expression on his face, unbearably cute paired with his reddened lips and mussed hair. "Lube. We need lube."

Shit. Shit, shit shit. I do _not_ want to run out to the store _now_ , for _this_...

...Wait.

I never told Riku about this, but around the time of our anniversary last month, our friends got so sick of me talking about my relationship that they gave me a little _present_ one day while I was waiting for Riku to finish a workout. I stashed it away somewhere inconspicuous, but where was it… oh!

Leaning uncomfortably far to the left, I yank open the drawer in the bedside table and pull out a smallish box. I rip open the box's top flap, letting it fall to the floor and making a tiny mental note to throw it out before Riku sees the message lovingly scrawled in permanent marker in Tidus' sloppy handwriting: _Please just do it already!_

Embarrassing at the time--useful now!

"...Wait," Riku says, face slightly red in the last traces of late evening sun. He's getting hard to see--we might need to switch on a light if we wait too much longer. "I don't, um." He swallows hard. "I don't know what to do. I don't even know where to start." ...Oh. Jeez.

"I think we should figure out who… um… who… wants to..." What's wrong with me? Why can't I say it? "Um." _Sora, spit it out!_ "Who goes on top?" Riku's quiet, then hesitantly asks if I'm talking about who's going to do the _giving_ and who'll be _receiving_. I nod.

He thinks for a minute, then says, clear as day, not one ounce of trepidation, "Sora, I want you to do it." I make a little confused noise, a cue for him to elaborate since that literally could've meant anything. "Give it to me." _Oh, wow!_ He didn't need to say it like _that_! There are no words to describe the sound that comes out of my mouth. "I just… think you have a better idea of what to do, I know you've thought about it probably a lot… and I don't want to hurt you… so… I think you should do it."

"Okay, Riku. If you're sure you want me to, I'll top."

Somehow I sound collected, even though my heart is pounding a mile a minute.

With gross, sweaty hands, I do my best to unscrew the jar, setting the cap on the table as I slick the fingers on my left hand. I can't believe this is happening… and a part of me can't believe that Riku's asking for us to do it _this_ way. I kind of figured… I don't know. I don't know what I thought would happen, so I probably would have been surprised no matter what. Well, now I'm kind of glad I consumed so much erotica (okay, _porn_ ) while I was effectively single. At least I have a direction.

Fingers slick and jar set next to its lid, there's only one thing to do now.

Riku's legs are pulled close to his chest; I kiss both kneecaps before asking as delicately as I can for him to open them a little more. I hear the rustling of the comforter as he puts his legs down, far enough that I can sit comfortably between them but no more. Trying my best not to get lube on him, I reposition him just a tiny bit with my palm, just enough so I can (deep breath, Sora, deep breath) _do this thing_.

All I do is press a finger _against_ him and it makes my dick twinge like crazy. One hand on Riku's thigh--maybe to brace myself, maybe just to be touching him--I slowly push it inside, into the heat of his body. My eyes flicker between Riku's face and me, _inside him_ (okay, my finger, but still).

"How's that feel?" I ask, voice low so not to risk startling him.

"Feels like what it is," he replies bluntly. I snort, snickering.

"You mean like having a finger in your ass?" Riku makes no noise, but I can feel the movement of the bed as he laughs--hard.

"Don't you dare make me laugh right now," he warns me. With a satisfied grin, I lean forward to kiss his forehead, then do my best to wiggle a second finger in there. His breathing comes louder now, even in a kind of deliberate way that takes me aback because that's what he does when he's super, super angry. He's not, though--didn't think he was, but I still check in just to make sure he's okay, not moving my fingers any until I get the affirmative.

Man, this feels… super weird. Not bad. Just… not like anything I've really felt before. Plus I'm still super hard, so I think my body just _knows_ what this is gonna be like and wants it bad. My brain wants it too, just… gotta get past these nerves.

It takes me a few seconds to work him open, to figure out what looks like is causing him the least amount of discomfort. His eyes shut tight whenever I spread my fingers so I go slower, moving less at a time, spreading further by tiny amounts until I think he's _probably_ ready. I ask him if he is.

"Guess we'll find out," he says, strangled-sounding. Okay… not totally reassuring, but I'm going to do what he says. I'm as gentle as I can possibly be when I remove my fingers, a little nervous when I see him immediately go about a hundred times less tense.

I almost ask for a second time if he's ready, but I don't want to psych him out. I have to trust him when he tells me the first time. It all comes down to trust now.

Even with preparation and more lube I don't just slide right in like I thought I was going to, so on the second try I grab hold of myself and guide the tip, letting go once I'm pretty sure that I won't jab in at an odd angle and end up hurting him. Slow is the theme of the night; I keep my eyes trained on his face, watching for any signs of pain or hopefully even pleasure... though I realize that's kind of a tall order right now.

He's quiet and a little still but seems collected, thinking and processing. That's what he does, so… no worries there, I think. I feel _just_ confident enough to keep going, so I embrace him and close my eyes, soaking in this unfamiliar sensation.

Inside Riku, it's warm and _tight_ , almost too much until he slowly begins to accommodate my presence, his body loosening naturally as he adjusts and calms. He still rotates between seizing and relaxing as I push myself in deeper, re-angling a little as I go, trying to see if I fit in all the way. I want to fill him. I don't know why that's my instinct, but… I want to be as close to him as I can possibly be.

Mustering the courage to add a little more force, I give a push- in response, Riku twitches from the inside out and I have to will myself not to go off when we haven't even really started yet. Holy _fuck_ that felt good.

"I can feel that," I tell him, totally awestruck, when it happens again.

"Sorry," he gasps.

"No, it's good... it's really good... just relax and let me know if it gets to be too much."

He nods, then opens his mouth as if to speak, and I wait… and wait… but he thinks better of it, I guess. He settles on the bed, and he looks alert--not kind of foggy the way he sometimes does when I have to call his name more than once to get his attention. So… that's good, I think.

I start moving my hips, setting an easy rhythm. It feels familiar and not, all at once--it's like I'm grinding him and I'm no stranger to _that_ , but like…. a thousand times better. For a good thirty seconds it's bliss like I have _never_ felt, even better when Riku starts to move, but then… hm.

...Is this getting uncomfortable for him? It's getting uncomfortable for me. I mean, I know I'm new to this, but I don't think it's supposed to make me so sore this early.

"Hey," I ask, placing a hand on his stomach in warning before I stop thrusting, leaving us about half-connected. Riku looks not-entirely-happy at the sudden halt of our... what, lovemaking? That seems like a really odd word to describe what we're doing now. Our clumsy fumbling, more like.

"Could you just move a little bit...? Here," I help him shift around, accidentally sliding out of him entirely at one point as we shift this way and that, until I think I come to find something better: Riku's more accessible flat on his back, and I push his knees up, mostly to see if that's going to work. Riku gropes at the sheets, startled, I think, from me grabbing him like that out of nowhere. I kiss his ankle in apology. There's no meaning to the choice of location; it's just the first place I reach.

I have to stroke myself back to full hardness before I can press myself back inside, but it goes in easier this time around… and, to my immense satisfaction, deeper, too. I'm not about to drive into him without abandon, though-- I'm still careful, maybe a little less patient, 'cause I can't wait, I want to-- I want--

Whoa!

Okay, I was _not_ expecting Riku to do… whatever the hell it is he just did that all but _pulled_ me into him all the way… I don't know if it was a jerk of his hips or… what… He lets out a breathy, "Ah, fuck!" and a hiss of pain, pulling me back to reality with a stab of panic in my gut. I really hope that wasn't involuntary, or a mistake...

But then he does it again, a little gentler this time, and I realize fully that he really does want this as much as I do, that he's telling me to _hurry it up_.

I press my forehead against his and I'm thrusting a little harder, a little faster.

Better. This position is a lot better.

Actually... it feels _great_. This is literally beyond anything I could possibly describe; I'm not even sure what the best, best part is. Is it the way Riku feels around me as I push and pull, or is it the way he pants desperately into my ear? Or the warmth of his body under me? No... I think it's the way we move as one person, together, without missing a beat. It's incredible.

Sliding a hand between us, I start pumping Riku's cock--in my excitement, I've been neglecting him for _way_ too long. He starts to give me something almost resembling a moan, but bites it down at the last minute. He's so fucking guarded...

I'm not too worried, though. Knowing him, that won't always be the case. And if we have to keep practicing until it gets so good that he can't _help_ but be loud, well… I _guess_ that's a sacrifice I'll be willing to make.

Oh, shit… I'm _really_ close. When did _that_ happen?

I start to slow a little, finding myself losing stamina fast, and I wonder if we're going to go through all this only for me to lose my hard-on before I can finish. I dunno if Riku senses it or what but he suddenly takes over, touching me for the first time--hands on my hips, letting me be still but close, flexing oddly at unpredictable intervals until he's… I don't even know… it feels like he's pumping my cock but from inside, and he's got me moaning so loud but I don't even care. I can barely think, my entire world is _Riku_ , _Riku, Riku._ Suddenly I'm making this ridiculous high-pitched sound as the orgasm hits me hard, shaking my entire foundation. I have to float back down to earth for a second before I realize that I'm holding onto Riku's erection and not even stroking him anymore but that's an easy fix, and in the end he finishes mere seconds after I do.

I pull out one last time and roll over, suddenly exhausted. I wonder if I should done that earlier, before I… oops. I really, really hope Riku doesn't mind that I, um. Might have made a _little_ bit of a mess while I was in him. I should have asked about that before we even started.

The surrealness of that thought hits me next. I _finally_ had sex with Riku, my boyfriend of two years. And I topped. He _asked me_ to top. I don't even know what to think, I'm so… so…

So _tired._

Next to me, Riku turns to his side, still quiet. We're not touching.

This is ridiculous...

"Get over here," I tell him.

"You get over here," he replies. I don't want to lose this challenge, but I also don't want to jump into a competition after we just fucked for the first time, so I scoot myself over till at least our arms are making contact.

Um… now what? Bizarrely I'm not in much of a talky or touchy mood, and I have no idea what Riku wants or if Riku knows what he wants. I feel floaty and unreal more than anything, like a gull feather caught on a breeze. I think Riku does, too, from the look of him. He's flushed, sweaty, and his hair's an unholy mess, but he looks content. Ready for sleep.

I'm turning to him, about to ask him what he's thinking, but I'm distracted when my stomach growls. Loudly.

So, minorly annoyed at the timing, I tell him I'll be right back, pull on my boxers, and make the trek downstairs for something to eat. I've never been so hungry in my _life_. Well, with the exception of those couple months I lived on canned tuna and pears... man, that was like, a whole lifetime ago now.

I grab a small, single-serving sized box of cereal and take it with me as I start my slow walk up the stairs, forgoing the milk and digging in, tossing bits of processed sugar in my mouth.

When I get back upstairs and crawl into bed, Riku's asleep. Ugh… shit.

How disappointing is it that I didn't tell him how much I love him after having sex with him for the first time? 'I don't know what to do now that it's over!' I'm so dumb... nothing I can do about it now, though.

Tomorrow I'm gonna tell him a million times. Tonight, I kiss his forehead and whisper it to him as I set my empty cereal box aside, hoping that somewhere in his dreaming, he'll know that I'm here.

*

We sleep in the next morning, 'cause we're exhausted and deserve the rest. It's ten when we wake up, and I think we would have slept in even more if the sun weren't shining really brightly through the windows. Next time, we're closing the curtains… oof.

"Good morning," I slur, rubbing my eyes. I can't believe how tired I still am. He grins. _Grins_ , and it's genuine and sincere, so, so happy.

"Good morning," he responds, twisting onto his side and pushing himself over to me, closing the gap between us. Then we’re giggling, giddy like kids--which feels weird given the circumstances--and things feel light and airy; not at all awkward. Well, maybe slightly awkward, but in a good way.

We stifle laughter until our faces are red, our eyes are locked like we just can't stop looking at each other, like right now our happiness is a secret that's intended for the two of us and no one else. At the same time, I kind of want to go out on the balcony and scream to the world about what happened last night... I have a feeling that wouldn't go over so well, though.

On that note, I should probably make sure that everything is okay with Riku-- I mean, I'm pretty sure it is or else we wouldn't have laughed for a good 5 minutes straight, but at the very least it's probably good manners to check in.

"How was it?" I ask. Hmm... I really wish I had phrased that differently. I very clearly had no idea what I was doing last night. Turns out all the fantasizing in the world can't really prepare you for the real thing.

Riku just looks at me and nods, lost for words in a way that I've never really seen before, but it's a good look on him.

"You're not regretting it?" I ask next, just to make sure.

He shakes his head emphatically, meeting my eyes as he does. There's a sparkle to them that I don't think I've ever really seen before either and that is, of course, _also_ a very good look on him - one that I wouldn't mind seeing more often. I want to make Riku smile this big every day we're together from now on.

"Not regretting a thing," Riku confirms. "Are you?"

"'Course not."

We both let out a sigh. One of relief, I think. I'm so glad we waited.

I'm thinking about how I could stay in bed all day and even think of verbalizing it when Riku sits up, stretching. Wait, is he getting up already? That's not allowed. I want my post-sex cuddling!

"Where are you going?" I ask, watching him rise, kicking out his legs and bending a little at the waist. I get a really nice view of the muscles in his back moving as he stretches and it's _almost_ enough to get me distracted from the question I asked not two seconds ago.

"Shower," he replies, crossing the room and lingering in the bathroom doorway. I'm slightly disappointed to see he's in his pajama pants--he must have put clothes back on after I went downstairs last night, and I was so zonked I didn't even notice. "...you're coming with me, right?"

Wait, what?

"Yeah." I want to cheer but I'm dedicated to playing it cool - or, well... I try, at least. The big, silly grin I know I'm wearing probably isn't doing me any favors. I wait until he turns and walks inside to follow him, trying not to pay too much attention to the tired little limp to his step.

He's turning on the water when I catch up, pulling the tap to channel it through the shower head. Then he strips down like it's nothing. I'm a little amazed at myself for keeping my jaw off the floor and stepping in after him without getting worked up all over again.

The water that blasts at us is cool, but it feels good, too; I'm disgustingly sticky with the sweat that dried on my body last night. Surprisingly I manage to hold my concentration enough to wash up, soaping and shampooing and only keeping half an eye on Riku's form, not laughing _too_ hard whenever we end up making accidental eye contact and can't keep straight faces.

Since I finish washing up pretty fast, I take the rest of the time to enjoy the water and the company. Something I notice about Riku right away is that he's meticulously clean and organized, seeming to work in an exact order with a lot of different products. Makes sense, after all the times in his life he hasn't had ready shower access.

It continues even after we shut off the water and begin to dry off; I shut the toilet lid and take a seat, towel wrapped around my waist, watching as Riku applies a variety of lotions and creams to his skin and hair. I guess I've seen all his little jars and bottles around but never put much thought into them.

I didn't know Riku put so much effort into his appearance. I thought he was naturally perfect as long as he wasn't, you know, on heroin… but watching him sort of lifts a veil, in a good way. It's like I have that much more insight into who he is. It's a little hard shaking off the feeling of voyeurism, though, like I'm invading his privacy… then it occurs to me that I'm not encroaching on his routine; he's making me a part of it.

"Sora?" Riku asks suddenly, fluffing out his damp hair.

"What?"

"I think I want to do it again."

"...Right _now_?" I ask. I don't think I can go again so soon...

"No, not now!" he exclaims, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He looks at me through the mirror. His reflection is foggy. "I meant--oh my god-- I just meant. In general. I would do it again if you asked."

"Oh!" That makes more sense. "Yeah, me too! Whenever you want. Literally, whenever. And I'm more than happy to do it the other way, too. Bottoming, I mean. But I really liked being on top, too!" _Please_ someone stop me from talking. _Please_.

Riku shakes his head, laughing, but just for a moment. Then he looks… I don't know. Serious, maybe a little sad, enough that I lean over a little bit to get a more direct look at his face.

"I meant to ask you something last night," he says, _very_ delicately _._

"...Yeah?"

"Am I--" he stops; I'm about to stand and put a hand on his shoulder, but he pushes through, whatever that was. "I'm not cold, am I? Frigid?" For a long time I just stare at him. I have _no_ idea where that came from.

"Not at all," I say. "You're warm and giving and compassionate." He examines me for a long time before returning to his hair, hands working a little faster, a little rougher, till he's accomplished whatever his aim is there. He opens the bathroom door a crack, letting the fog begin to dissipate.

"...I really am sorry about last night," he says. _Huh_? "That I don't know what I want to do."

Oh right-- I proposed. Jeez, talk about a one track mind.

I just shrug. "It's fine. It's not like I don't know how you can be about surprises…" Sheepishly, I add, "I probably shoulda run this past you first in hindsight, instead of just springing it on you like that." He shakes his head again, leaning over to give me a quick kiss on the lips.

Oddly, I don't mind that I still don't have a straight answer, that I might not have one for a while. I don't think we'll have any trouble staying together, no matter what the future holds, if things can stay this way: uncomplicated, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my damnedest to keep this story at M, but given the relatively graphic nature of the sex scene, I decided to raise the rating even though I don't even consider it to be all that smutty. I also feel like if you've gotten this far you probably don't mind the sex, but always better to err on the side of caution, imo, especially given that Runaway was only rated T.
> 
> Here's where to stop if you're so inclined:
> 
> "Then think about it." My breathlessness gives my voice a harsh edge I don't want, so I stop, collect myself, catch my breath. "...And we'll keep talking about it, and we'll figure it all out together just like we always do. We'll figure out want we want." I expect him to think about it more, but surprisingly, his response is instant.
> 
> "I know what I want."
> 
> "Yeah?"
> 
> "I want to be close to you," he says. The second time it comes out quieter. "I want to be so close to you." I look up at him, wondering if he knows how that sounds, and he looks back at me… and I think we both know. It's time.
> 
> Here's where you should start up again:
> 
> We sleep in the next morning, 'cause we're exhausted and deserve the rest. It's ten when we wake up, and I think we would have slept in even more if the sun weren't shining really brightly through the windows. Next time, we're closing the curtains… oof.


End file.
